


Digimon: Chaotic Evolutions

by Katreal



Category: Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Frontier
Genre: Adventure, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Drama, Gen, No Romance, Original Digimon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 223,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katreal/pseuds/Katreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Posing as a Digidestined pair, and barred from spirit evolution save in the most dire of circumstances, Kouji and Kouichi struggle to aid the Chosen Children in discovering the secret of evolution, all while trying to unravel the truth of the connection between their Spirits, and themselves. Cross-posted from FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - The Summons

 

**Chapter 1**

_The Summons_

 

A queer wind blew through the sleepy darkness of the early morning. It was quiet, far from the ever active central districts of the city. Here high rises gave way to smaller individual homes, packed together along narrow streets. Green snuck in, squeezing into window boxes, small personal vegetable gardens, and decorative shrubs.

It was…peaceful.

 While not a place of great wealth, everything was clean, and well maintained. Regularly placed streetlights shone softly in the night, driving back the darkness that the moon’s light didn’t touch.

The lazy moon floated through a cloud-studded sky. The image wavered, pockmarked with the occasional cloud fleeting across its full shining face, but it gave its light willingly, brightening the night to give it an almost ethereal quality to the landscape.

The wind dropped off, stilling as the air charged with…something. Six children in this city might have been able to recognize it for what it was, and they wouldn’t have been able to explain it to any who asked. It just…was.

The light from the moon found an upper story window in a modest, unassuming two-story home. The window was open, half drawn blinds still fidgeting in a breeze that was no longer there.

The light seemed to coalesce, drawing in on itself, becoming concentrated. The charge took the form of a humanoid figure, seen only out of the corner one’s eye. Anyone who saw it would have never thought it more than a trick of the light.

" _It is time…”_

Minamoto Kouji tossed and turned in his sleep; a bead of sweat slid down the side of his face only to be absorbed by the pillow. His fists continued to clench the blanket as he dreamed. He dreamed of trains. Of battle. Of a voice he’d once heard only through a queer little machine known as a D-Scanner. One he never thought to see again

His breathing was labored, chest heaving with the effort to pull the air into his lungs. In his unconscious state he was unaware of everything. Unaware of the presence standing over him now, an unseen hand reaching down to gently brush sweat slicked hair from his face. Unaware of the voiceless words that seemed to reverberate within the room, even though there was no one awake to hear it.

" _Light..."_

Kouji's eyes flew open, his usually bright blue eyes dull and vacant. He was still caught in a dream, even as his visitor gently pressed something into his hand. Harsh breathing echoed, with each breath his fingers twitched and stirred, blue-brown bandana tightly to his chest. He shouldn’t have been able to reach it. He left it on his bedside stand every evening. A strange cross-like symbol glowed softly from between the folds, a cellphone.

" _Darkness…"_

Across the city, another stirred in response. This visitor did not arrive on a road of moonlight, the night had full claim where light dare not touch.

The neighborhood only barely resembled the one on the other side of the city. It was cramped, worn and torn looking. One out of every street light stood dim and dead, sentinels who had long since failed on their watch. A battle for life and death was going on at this very moment. A street lamp made a valiant attempt at life, flickering and sputtering as it strove to do its duty. Then, it died. A room in the nearby apartment complex was plunged into complete darkness.

The visitor didn’t so much arrive as it did appear, melting out of the shadows. It didn’t have a form really, darkness in darkness, a presence that filled the room. It affected the room’s occupant, even if it left no impression on the real world. It was on another plane entirely, but there was one who was just as much connected to it as it was.

Kimura Kouichi jerked out of a nightmare. A nightmare of being trapped. Of a close friend twisted and bent, broken into a horrific, ruthless servant to one out to destroy the world. He wasn’t fully awake, lost to the darkness, but a weight settled into his hand, and it comforted him. It was the feel of confidence. It was the weight of black and gold armor, of his trusty staff in his hands. It was a support, the unwavering determination to do what was right, a balm to his torn soul.

Kouichi did not own a cell-phone, and he wouldn’t have been able to explain how he had acquired the one in his hands had he been awake. His mother was able to just get by, working for their home in the crowded apartment complex in this shabby neighborhood. He hadn’t the heart to tell her when his last phone had breathed its last just the year before.

The stylized cross symbol cast an eerie purple glow, one which faded into the surrounding darkness, rather than illuminate it. It strengthened the presence in the room as it stood guard.

" _Warriors…you are SUMMONED!"_

All around the city the lights flickered, computers went berserk due to the sudden, brief, yet intense influx of data that surged through the city's network. It just so happened, that in that one, very tiny instant, no one was outside. The surge of data briefly knocked out any camera, or instrument which would pick up the two faint streaks of light, one light blue and the other a dark purple, as they shot up from two points on opposite ends of the city, only to disappear into the night sky.

Four other children jerked awake, scattered throughout the city. Each instinctively reached for their phones, head ringing with a command they didn’t understand.

Come the next morning they would call each other, and when two of their number never answered, they all knew why. Takuya would grumble, jealous that he hadn’t been invited along. Tomoki would join in, attempting to cheer up his brother figure, even as he inwardly sulked. Junpei would speculate on what was going on, and why only two were summoned. Izumi would worry, and hope everything would turn out alright.

 

x-x-x

           

The three celestial digimon were gathered in the forest terminal, the ornate crystal chamber was a large contrast with their moods. The faces of each were grave, the silence oppressive. A silver winged angel digimon, HolyAngemon, had his purple visored head angled toward one of the castle windows, his unseen gaze roaming far into the digital world’s night sky. Two streaks of light were fading into the distance, becoming nothing more than stars as he watched. He was the first to break the silence. "Should we be sending _them?_ "

A gloved hand rested comfortingly on his shoulder as a six-winged female angel, Angewomon, came to his side. She followed his gaze, her ungloved hand clenched tightly in her pink shawl. She gave him silent comfort, unsure of what to say, other than, “We needed a pair. None of the others would work.”

"The theft was thwarted, but I worry for the intentions behind it." whispered the Ultimate form of Cherubimon; Antiramon. The long-armed rabbit-like digimon stood away from the other two, preferring to be alone rather than in company. He was half shrouded in shadows, far from the shining pair of angels and the open window. “This is dangerous. They were not ready.”

HolyAngemon shook his head slowly, his wings drooping. He took Angewoman’s hand in his, "It cannot be helped. They ARE our champions. If Qinglongmon is correct, then it is our responsibility to correct."      

"Was this the only way though?" Angewomon wondered, her breath quiet, subdued. She squeezed his hand in acknowledgement before pulling away. She turned instead toward Antiramon, it was from the rabbit digimon that the plan had come.

"Yes…" The admission was pained, "We cannot pass through. This world is our duty. We cannot help. Only the Warriors may now."

Angewomon sighed, "I wish we could have at least asked…I do not like dragging them in to this without warning."

HolyAngemon placed a comforting hand on Angewomon's shoulder, returning to her the comfort she had offered him, "As do I…but you heard Qinglongmon. Things are getting worse, and there was no time to explain. You left a recording, which is the most we can do."

Angewomon's wings shuffled as she turned away, her holy radiance muted, "I know…I know…I just wish…"

Antiramon ignored them as his fellow Celestial digimon took their leave, only moving when the first rays of light began to creep through the now empty window. He moved slowly, almost painfully to it, watching as the rising sun broke over the trees, blotting out the stars. So many stars. So many worlds. So many problems. There was nothing more to be said other than, "Good luck."

Green eyes watched the huddle of digimon disperse, a small shaped crouched behind a tapestry. They turned to the empty window, worried and frustrated all at once. If only he could _help._

x-x-x

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, it was Sunday. Minamoto Satomi was humming as she collected the laundry from various rooms in the house. She’d saved Kouji’s room for last, in order to give the boy the longest possible time to rest. She knew he hadn’t been sleeping well for the past while, and he’d seemed so… _tired_. There was nothing to be done for it now, she paused in front of her step-son's room and knocked once on the door, "Kouji! Can I come in?"

There was no answer.

Satomi smiled fondly. He was probably still in bed. She knocked again, increasing the volume of her calls. Still no answer.

She listened for any sign of movement, blankets rustling, or the quiet groans of a teenager being forced to wakefulness when he did not want to. Still nothing. She frowned; worry starting to creep into her thoughts, Kouji hadn't ignored her for a few years now. Not since that summer, when he’d disappeared for a few hours. She knew that she would never replace Kimura Tomoko, and she accepted that. But she loved him. She smiled fondly, remembering when Kouji had shown up for dinner one day, holding a bouquet of flowers and an apology, as if he had never left. He had never spoken of what had caused his change of heart, and Satomi didn't pressure him. She suspected it was meeting his twin—for shortly after his return she’d met shy Kimura Kouichi. Whatever happened had, and still did, mean a great deal to the thirteen year old, and Satomi knew the value such experiences held for those who live through them.

The dark-haired woman placed her free hand on the doorknob. With what seemed like agonizing slowness she pushed opened the door. She surveyed the contents of the room intently, her expression falling as she confirmed that her stepson was nowhere to be found. The room was empty. Satomi's gaze swept the room, noting everything in the room. Kouji's bedroom was tidy and neat, not one article of clothing lay on the dark royal blue carpet. The oak desk in the corner was also clear, all the school books stacked orderly, the homework that was due Monday was laid carefully out to ensure that it wouldn't be forgotten. Leaning against the wall was Kouji's instrument, a guitar, although it seemed it hadn't been used in a while. Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard him practicing lately; he’d probably been too tired.

The only thing out of place was the bed. The deep royal blue covers were crumpled and not made neatly like they usually were every morning. Memories began to well up, memories of the day Kouji left. Satomi shook her head, trying to banish the image of Kouji angrily stalking out of the house; his room had looked exactly like this then; even right down to the picture on his nightstand, once again it showed Kimura Tomoko's face.

She tried to push the memories to the back of her mind and consider the situation. Kouji didn't usually leave without telling anyone. Looking at all the outcomes she decided that Kouji _must’ve_ already left, maybe her husband knew? She left the door open and made her way to the stairs, calling out, "Kousei, did Kouji leave this morning?"

"No." Minamoto Kousei replied from downstairs, she could hear the paper shuffling as he turned the page, "His shoes are still here, and I haven't seen him all morning. Isn't he still sleeping?"

Satomi was about to reply when she heard the ring of the phone. She hurried into the master bedroom and to the phone that was there, "I've got it."

She balanced the basket on her hip and held the phone to her ear, "Hello?"

" _Minamoto-san?"_ A woman's voice asked nervously.

"Yes this is Minamoto Satomi."

" _This is Kimura Tomoko…Is Kouichi over there?"_

Satomi shook her head, though she knew the other woman would not be able to see it, "No. Why?"

Tomoko's voice cracked on the other end of the line, _"He's gone…He's been missing all morning. Last I remember seeing Kouichi was when he went to bed last night."_

Satomi's brow furrowed, "Did you check his friend's houses? Maybe he went to visit Takuya-kun…or the Orimoto girl."

She had been thinking of calling them herself. They were a tightly knit group, those ones.

" _I-…I…I still need to check. I thought maybe he went to visit Kouji, but he usually tells me when he goes out."_

"No. He hasn’t been here." _'Kouji is out as well.'_ She added silently. A hint of panic began to grow in Satomi's voice, though she tried to suppress it. Memories surfaced. Memories that took place three years ago, painful memories of when she had believed herself to have pushed Kouji to running away. It couldn’t have been that. He’d smiled at her during dinner last night, thanked her. He’d suffered through a quick hug before bed. He wouldn’t run away. She was being silly. 

Tomoko was silent for a moment before, _"Oh, thank you…for your time…"_

The phone clicked, showing that Tomoko had hung up. Satomi held the phone in her hand loosely, ignoring the dial tone. Suddenly she dropped the laundry basket, causing a large crash that sent Kousei thudding up the stairs to see if she was alright. When her husband reached the room he was greeted with the sight of her collecting the laundry that had scattered along the floor. The phone lay forgotten where she’d let it drop into the basket—half covered by one of his shirts, “Honey? You alright?” 

“Yes. I’m fine. Just fine.” She smiled up at him, hiding her apprehension behind it. Surely Kouji would be at one of his friend’s house.

 

x-x-x

It didn’t take long before the edge of the sun peeked over the hill, spilling golden waves of light across the open plains, a sea of bright green grasses. The long strands moved like ripples in a pond as the morning breeze teased the blades in gentle gusts, brought on by the slow heating of the morning. The dark royal blue of night receded as even more of the sun rose higher. Near invisible clouds lit up with vibrant pinks, oranges, and yellows, making the entire scene look like a painted masterpiece. Not that there was anyone nearby to appreciate it.

There was only one thing marring the surface of the grass ocean, it was a lone grey stone which stood tall and erect in the fields, its grey peak jutting out like an island. The rising sun caused the formation to cast a dark shadow on its westward side, allowing its two charges to continue to sleep peacefully under its silent vigil.

A disturbance in the rhythm of flowing strands was the only indication that an intruder would soon stumble upon the stone. Whether it was a lucky chance, or perhaps design, that led the small digimon out into the open plains, he made his way at a leisurely pace toward the sentinel stone. Small golden scales, packed so close that it almost looked like hide, showed quite clearly against the backdrop of green as a three clawed hand parted the grass curtain between him and the stone.

Large reptilian green eyes blinked slowly as he surveyed the two sleeping figures. He scratched his dinosaur like head in confusion, a row of wicked white teeth sparked in the morning light as he spoke, quietly, "I'd better tell Taichi and the others about this…"

With a flick of his golden tail the dinosaur was gone, leaving the object of his confusion behind. Laying in the shade cast by the stone was two creatures. They were huddled together, black and white, but the larger one was a sleeker, like a feline, with a long, cat-like tail twitching to and fro with each breath. The smaller one had a wolf’s build, with white fur that faded to metallic-like silver near the tips of the tail, ears, and paws. Tied around the pup's neck was a blue and brown bandana; tucked into the bandana was a blue and black object.

He sniffed in his sleep and rolled over, revealing a royal blue design on the canine's left shoulder. It looked similar to the symbol that could be found on Wolfmon's shoulder guards, the symbol for the warrior of light.

The larger creature stirred, huddling further away from the steadily advancing sunlight. This one had fur as dark as the coldest reaches of oblivion, the color so deep that one felt as if they were looking into a hole in space. Only one other color could be found on here; dark violet streaks were on his cheeks, one below each eye. He matched the patterning of his partner with a matching shade of purple tipping his ears, tail, and paws. A second symbol was on this one’s flank—the symbol of darkness.

The shadows shrank as the lighter pup stirred, cracking open one bright blue eye in irritation at whatever had decided to wake him up. He raised his head, blinking sleepily. The glazed over look vanished as he got a good look at his surroundings. He stared suspiciously at the field of grass and the sky over head, as if he hadn't expected to wake up outdoors.

The pup tried to stand up, tripped clumsily, and fell over. He landed snout first in the dirt, the fall dislodging the blue and black device that had been held loosely in place by the tied cloth. The D-Scanner landed face up near his head, and began to glow and beep methodically as the wolf righted himself once more. He eyed the device, both recognition and wariness warring within him as he regarded the symbol emblazoned on the screen. The second digimon made a groan of protest at the sound and rolled over, putting one large paw over his ears to block it out.

One last glance had the lighter one sighing and nudging the device with a paw, waiting for the contact to activate the pre-recorded message he knew would be there.

"Kouji."

He remained silent, taking a few moments to recognize the voice. The pitch and tone may be different, but Kouji could hear the resemblance to Ophanimon and Salamon; he guessed that it was one of Ophanimon's other forms. Ophanimon had been the only one of the Celestial Digimon who had communicated to them via the D-Scanners anyway.

"As you may have guessed, you are indeed in the Digital World. The spirits of the Warriors never left their Chosen, and the Warriors must always be available to protect our World. You were called, and the Spirits answered.”

Kouji grimaced; he should have guessed their harebrained adventures a few years ago would have such consequences. He managed to arrange himself into a seated position, trying to remember how it felt to work a four legged body. It had been so long since he’d attained his beast spirit, and that had been in the middle of battle, with adrenalin and rage and fear and all the little trappings that came along with it. This form was most certainly NOT his beast evolution. It was too small for one thing. And furry.

“This section of the Digital World is far outside the bounds of our Guardianship. Normally, only very young digimon may travel between sectors of the Digital World. The Legendary Digimon do not have a younger form, but we managed to use the data to create the forms you now wear. Your rookie form, Kouji, is Akemon. Kouichi's is Anyamon. Treat it as another level of evolution; it works in a similar fashion.”

"There is one thing that you _must_ remember. Do _not_ reveal your spirit’s capabilities. It would be better if only one of you remained human at any one time, both for disguise, and protection. Spirit evolution is unknown here, do not use it unnecessarily.”

“A message has been sent to the Guardian of that sector, and should arrive soon to brief you further on the problem. I wish you luck."

Then the light on the D-Scanner died, ending the recording.

Kouji shot a glance to where his brother lay, huddled in the steadily moving shadows. He had heard the quiet snores die away during the recording, and wasn’t surprised when his gaze was met with pale gold eyes. "How much did you hear?"

The Warrior of Darkness sighed, "Enough.”

“What should we do?” Kouji quietly asked his older brother. One human. One Digimon. Kouichi realized it too. He didn’t have to ask. He closed his eyes, laying his head on his paws "Just dedigivolve. I’ll…stay."

The Warrior of Light frowned, remembering their last adventure. The digital world was dangerous. They wouldn’t have been called if things were peaceful, “What if we meet danger? You don’t like fighting.”

“I’m also twice your size.” Kouichi shifted, uncurling from the ball he’d been sleeping in. The shift revealed that his form was far more cat-like than Kouji had previously thought. It also revealed that Kouichi was completely correct, much to Kouji’s disgruntled annoyance. He felt a low growl building in the back of his throat, but he cut it off. He couldn’t deny that. Kouichi, with his larger size, and foreboding coloring, would definitely have an advantage when it came down to intimidation alone. Still. His brother disliked fighting. He wouldn’t force that on him, especially since there was a way to keep him out of any fighting that would be done.

It didn’t help that being thrust into such a role had his own fur bristling. He didn’t think he would be able to handle watching his brother fight his battles for him. It was such an inefficient system.

“Younger brother.” Kouji startled at both the firmness in his tone, and the blatant emphasis on younger, “For now, let me do this. We can always switch later.” The edge dropped away, and his brother’s soft voice came again, somewhat sheepishly. “To be honest, I like it like this. Anyamon is very…grounded. It reminds me of Lowemon.”

Of course Kouichi would be more comfortable as a digimon. After returning he had confided to Kouji that he often missed Lowemon’s solid presence. The confidence. The strength. He didn’t feel so unsure, or worried.

Admiting defeat, Kouji reached back into his memories, looking for the feeling, the trigger that he hadn’t had to use for so long. It wasn’t exactly the same as releasing the spirits, returning them to the D-Scanner in order to regain his human form. This was more of a retreat, a withdrawal into himself, where Akemon curled up to rest, lying comfortably between the statues of Wolfmon and Garmmon, waiting, should he need them.

He opened his eyes to see the swirling cocoon of code dispersed, the tiny particles flying away from him like thousands of shooting stars. They traveled no more than a few feet before fading out of existence. Kouji was suddenly dizzy, the change in perspective was massive, and he didn’t have one of the spirits to brace himself with. He put his hand to his head to ward it off, and realized he touched hair rather than cloth, even though the rest of his clothes were the same outfit he’d worn on the last adventure. Even though he’d grown out of them in the intervening years, he’d kept the bandana. After a few minutes to ordinate himself, his hands went straight for his neck, untying the blue and brown bandana, and replacing it in its customary spot on his head. He had to tuck away a few stray strands of hair that had escaped the confines of his pony-tail, and he hated it when they got in his eyes.

Kouichi—or Anyamon as he was now—crawled over to curl up beside him. Kouji put a hand on his brother’s head, and his back to the stone, and waited.

 

x-x-x

 

The older Chosen liked the park. It was their official hang out space. They liked to get together and sit on the swings or the jungle gym, or just stand around and talk. Talk about life, the universe, and…well…everything really.

They were still a close bunch, even if Mimi had moved to America, and Joe was off to medical school. Even if Yamato was gone more than he was in town, touring and trying to make a name for himself and his band. They liked the park because it was quiet. They liked the park because of the smell of green and growing things. They liked it because the trees blocked off the sight of the road, the towering buildings, and they could just pretend they were in the digital world again.

There was only one here now, the most unlikely to be even conscious so early in the morning on the weekend—barring a soccer game. Yagami Taichi, the former holder of the Crest of Courage was sprawled out across the metal bars of the domed jungle gym, one hand over his face to block out the rays of sun that began to penetrate the trees as the day moved on. He didn’t often come out here alone, but he wanted to think without his mother badgering him about work, or university, or ‘by the way, how is Agumon doing?’

Oddly enough, the thing that was currently foremost in his mind was the little orange dinosaur. He hadn’t seen Agumon since...It hadn’t been the Digimon Emperor, was it? The year was drifting slowly toward winter, but things were never simple, even for the retired chosen. Izzy had been keeping an eye out for more Spire Digimon, and the younger kids still kept knocking them down whenever they happened to find another. Ken was being extremely helpful, having drawn several maps of some more, out of the way spires, but there were just so _many_.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the tell-tale beep that heralded the arrival of an email. The sound rang out clearly in the quiet air, leading Taichi to withdraw a small silvery-grey object from one of his larger pockets. He lifted the screen for his D-Terminal and checked the small blinking letter icon in the corner. The message popped up in a separate window, the text scrawling across as it filled the screen. It was from Izumi Koushiro, though he preferred to be called "Izzy", much to Taichi’s approval. Koushiro was a mouthful, and they were buds, so there was no reason to use the last name. Izzy was undeniably the 'brains' of the original Chosen as well as their voice of logic and reason.

Taichi frowned, what would Izzy want on a Sunday morning? He swung himself into a seated position, somehow keeping his balance on the thin metal frame of the jungle gym, and opened the email.

            _Taichi,_

            _I just received word from Agumon. He said Gennai sent him on an errand to Sector A-207. He was supposed to get you and bring you back, but get this—he found some digimon he has never seen before. Will you go check it out when you go? Make sure to bring your digivice so I can download the data!_

            _-Izzy_

Taichi grinned, finally something to do! Plus it involved the Digital World; Agumon was obviously alright if Gennai was having him run errands, but why shouldn't he be happy to see his partner digimon?

For a moment he wondered why Izzy wanted him to check on some random digimon, before he remembered the redhead’s self-imposed project to add and categorize all known digimon in that database of his. He snorted and shook his head fondly—Izzy was such a dork some times.

After a moment his smile faded—how could he get to the digital world? He knew just as well as everyone else that only the new Chosen's digivices, the D-3s, could open a portal. Taichi sighed; all of the new Chosen were taking a much needed break from Spire Hunting. Iori had gone somewhere with his family, Miyako’s sister had dragged her off to Yamato’s current concert. Daisuke, Hikari, and Takeru were planning on going in to the city, maybe even the beach while the unseasonably warm weather remained. Well, Hikari and Takeru had planned on going. Daisuke had invited himself along after learning the two of them were going to be alone together. Taichi snickered, imagining Daisuke’s face. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the twerp—he _did_ give him his goggles, and he _was_ a Child of Courage—but it was obvious Takeru already won this contest. Taichi didn’t even mind. He’d known the kid since he was a little brat, and he couldn’t think of anyone better suited to take care of ‘Kari.

After pondering this problem for a few moments something clicked. It was as if a little light bulb had turned on and Taichi realized that not all the Chosen were out. He turned back to his D-Terminal and opened another email. He didn’t know Ken as well, and maybe just maybe he harbored a tiny little grudge for him using Agumon like that, but Hikari swore that he was extremely regretful, and…well…He’d been a great help since.

_Ken,_

_I'm in kinda a situation here. Could you help me out?_

      _-Taichi_

Mere moments passed before a new message arrived. Why was Ken up so early? Pfft. Overachievers.           

_Taichi,_

       _Sure. What do you need?_

      _-Ken_

 

 


	2. Locked In

Taichi shut off his D-Terminal after receiving Ken's affirmative reply. He lay back across the cool metal bars of the jungle gym, once more folding his arms behind his head to look up at the sky. The Chosen of Courage closed his eyes, allowing the cool morning breeze to ruffle his thick mane of brown hair, whipping the strands every which way. He stayed this way for a while before the warmth of the rising sun broke down through the barrier of clouds, causing Taichi to receive the full effect of the golden ray. Even through his closed eyes he could see the sunlight; the great burst of yellow color that followed the break in the clouds. Taichi sighed and sat up, turning so as to use his back as a shield between the sun and himself. It was times like these that made him regret passing his goggles on to Daisuke.

Taichi tensed as he heard approaching footsteps. It was so quiet; this park was situated far enough from a busy road that there wasn’t even much road noise. He glanced toward the sound, toward the gate; passing through the park's gate was the very person that Taichi was waiting for. Ken didn't look any different than usual, his straight blue-black hair swayed in the morning breeze, blue-grey eyes focused on the ground before him. He was dressed in his normal light grey attire.

Taichi slipped off the jungle gym and walked over to the silent boy. Ken raised his head to lock gazes with the other Chosen before he lowered his gaze. “Good morning Yagami.”

“Oh, don’t give me that family name stuff. It’s just Taichi.” Taichi sighed, what would he and the others have to do to get this guy to loosen up? From what he’d heard, Ken was getting along better with the younger crowd, but he was still uptight and distant with the older. What was done…well, there was no use dwelling on the past…right? Taichi wasn’t one to hold a grudge. Besides, if someone worked to save the Digital World; Taichi figured they had earned the right to use his personal name. And he had the right to use theirs. "Well…Let's go."

Ken merely nodded a reply.

 

x-x-x

 

The sun was riding high by now, the morning melting away under its heat, little wispy clouds drifting lazily high up in the sky. Kouji glanced irritably at them, it was starting to get uncomfortable—how long were they going to have to wait? They’d already had to shift positions a couple times, following the shadow cast by the stone as the sun slowly nudged it across the ground. Soon enough it would be noon, and already Kouji had left the shelter of the shade. He didn’t mind the sun, but Koui—Anyamon—was panting already, and it wasn’t even afternoon yet. The heavy fur seemed more useful in a cooler climate—or at night.

 Some time back, Kouji had become impatient, and began to stalk the edges of the grass. He made sure to keep in Anyamon’s field of vision, but he just needed to _do_ something. Evidently, Anyamon felt the same, cracking one eye open and regarding his twin as Kouji growled at the grasses, "Are we just going to sit here all day?"                 

Kouji stopped his movement and shrugged, he wiped away a couple beads of sweat from his bare forehead. He had long since removed his bandana—it was just too warm out. Currently he had it stuffed into the pocket of his jacket, "She said to wait for the messenger. If we try to look around on our own we'll end up getting lost."

Anyamon yawned, showing a row of sharp fangs, the heat was evidently making him sleepy, "I guess…I just feel like I’ll drift off if we stay here."

The Warrior of Light frowned, and glanced up at the sky again. There were a few more clouds by now, but nowhere near enough to give them even the smallest reprieve of an overcast sky, much less a rainstorm. He shook his head, “Why not devolve? You would at least be spared the heat.”

Kouichi didn't reply, pushing himself to stand on shaky legs. He wobbled a bit, but didn’t tumble, steadying even as Kouji watched, "I'm still not used to being a Beast-type digimon…" He shook himself, “Let’s walk at least. I need to get a hang of this.”

Kouji checked his digivice out of habit, bringing up the holographic map. He half hoped to see the blinking red dots that would signify his fellow warriors, but the map was initially a blank field of nothing. It beeped as an error message scrolled across the screen, ‘Communication error. Downloading data.’ As he watched, the immediate area around him began to fill with a sketchy outline of the field, with only the small semi-circle around the stone in which he walked in complete detail. He hadn’t seen this functionality before. To test it, he walked to the far side of the stone, watching with interest as the map began to complete itself bit by bit.

The D-scanner beeped again, and a faint blip appeared on the map, pulsing regularly along the edge of the map in a north-north east direction. It was…just like when one of the warrior spirits came within range.

He glanced at Anyamon, who had begun to pace in circles, working the kinks out of stiff legs. The warrior of darkness shrugged when he checked the map, “It’s as good a direction as any.”

 

x-x-x

 

“It took you long enough to get here.” The spirit signal had led them to a spacious house sitting on the shore of a sparkling lake. Specifically a queer little contraption sitting in the front room, which beeped and pulsed with light for every answering pulse Kouji’s D-scanner picked up. Kouji eyed the young man who had come out of a side hall shortly after they’d arrived, wary. He looked human enough, even if the long robe he was wearing looked like it came out of Star Wars. The warriors hadn’t gone too far inside, just enough to see the machine that had led them here. Anyamon was taking some much needed relief from the heat, but the digimon remained alert. He’d been the first to note the newcomer’s arrival, the scent of not human, but not digimon mixed with roasting fish.

Kouji automatically found himself searching for the familiar feeling that triggered his spirit evolutions. It felt strange, off somehow, but the code responded readily enough, encircling his hand, waiting to be scanned, “Who are you?”

The man smiled amiably and unfolded his hands, raising them in a non-threatening matter. His robe was an off white, somewhere close to beige but not quite, and the hood was down, revealing a friendly face and brown, short hair. “Oh, is that spirit evolution? I’ve heard about it, but never seen it in action before.”  He appeared to have ignored the question initially, seeming more intent on the manifestation of the data swirling around Kouji’s hand. Anyamon snarled, and he pulled back when he’d started to get closer to study the phenomenon, “Oh, sorry. My name is Gennai. I’m…well, I guess you could call me a guidance program. You were due to arrive quite a while ago, but my messenger seems to have gotten himself lost so I jury-rigged this beauty.”

He patted the contraption fondly, “Angewomon informed me what frequency your digivices were on, just in case of such a problem.”

“Angewomon?” Kouji said dubiously, which led Gennai to chuckle, “Oh, you would know her as Ophanimon, wouldn’t you? She’s not quite back to full strength, but it is quite a road from rookie to mega, as they say. Even for Guardian digimon.”

Relaxing—just a little, Kouji felt caution was completely and utterly warranted all things considered. They’d just been dumped willy nilly in this world. At least last time Ophanimon had _asked_ —Kouji released the hold he had on Wolfmon’s spirit. The code faded, and Kouji quieted Anyamon with a reassuring hand. He wondered how Kouichi was handling the digimon—he hadn’t ever had to conquer his beast spirit like the others had, and even then Akemon had felt _weird_. Less like a spirit and more like that little gut feeling that told you not to touch the fire. More subtle. That made it harder to ignore. “Are you the Guardian then?”

“Me? Oh no. Qinglongmon looks after this sector, but I usually deal with the Chosen, so I’ve kind of become the liason of sorts. It is a little easier to talk to me than to a fifty foot dragon, after all.” Gennai motioned them toward the hallway from which he’d appeared, one which had the pleasant aroma of food wafting down it. It reminded Kouji of how hungry he was. “Now, the door is not the place to discuss these matters. I’ve got some lunch waiting, even if it is a little cool by now. I will explain some things afterwards.”

Neither Kouji, nor Anyamon were willing to turn away food, so they followed him inside without too much hesitation.

“You mentioned…Chosen.” Kouji began, after the small, but filling lunch had been devoured. Fish and fruit mostly. They’d retired from the dining area to a small sitting room. Gennai had taken up residence in a rather plush arm chair, and Anyamon was spread out on the cool wood flooring at Kouji’s feet. The warrior of light had purloined a comfortable chair, nowhere near as large or fancy as Gennai’s, but it was acceptable. “Do you mean the Warriors?”

“Well, no. Chosen is the term here. I suppose you would fall under the term…but no, Legendary Warriors fit your situation better, from what I know about it. The Chosen are the children who are destined to save the digital world. They each have a partner digimon, and that partner digimon uses the children’s energy to digivolve beyond their normal state of growth to defend the world. It isn’t quite the same as your system, but we make do.” Gennai chuckled, “The sectors of the digital world have quite a large amount of autonomy in how we run things.”

“This topic segues quite well into the big meat of what I need to talk to you two about.” Gennai grew serious. He turned, surprisingly, to Anyamon, most of the talking had been between him and Kouji before now, “You must have noticed by now. Did you tell him?”

Startled, the digimon raised his head from his paws, amber eyes wide. He glanced nervously up at Kouji, who was now frowning down at his brother. Tell him what? What had he missed?

Anyamon’s ears drooped, “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I suppose not.” Gennai sighed, “Do you want to, or shall I?”

“I can’t dedigivolve.” Anyamon admitted quietly, “It felt…almost locked when I tried.”

If the arm of the chair were alive, Kouji would be strangling it. He took a breath and released it, easing his clenched fingers apart. He stood up stiffly, the relaxed attitude gone as he leveled an accusing glare at the now somber man in the armchair, “What. Did. You. Do?”

Kouichi was stuck. Again. Kouichi still had nightmares of being stuck as Duskmon. Being stuck as Cherubimon’s ruthless minion, but this time he was _aware_ of everything, but unable to do _anything._ How _dare_ they put his brother through that again?!

“Me? Nothing.” Gennai said simply, folding his hands into his sleeves, “But your partner is right—it _is_ a lock. Of sorts. Angewomon mentioned you were to avoid Spirit Evolution, correct? May I see your digivice?” Kouji nodded curtly, not trusting himself to speak. His knuckles were white by the time he pried his D-Scanner out of his coat and deposited it into Gennai’s hand. The older looking man hmmed and hawed over it for a few moments, fiddling with the controls and the holographic displays. Kouji didn’t even recognize half the screens Gennai was flicking through, “Interesting design. A lot of internal memory—why? It doesn’t appear to be used. Hmm…oh! Here’s the coding.”

A large window appeared in the air above the screen, projected just like the map and compass where earlier. The strange writing prevalent throughout the digital world, scrolled across the screen. Gennai placed the actual device on the arm of his chair and was manipulating it via the projection, perusing the coding and flicking through separate tabs. “Aha. Here it is. This—D-scanner, did you call it?—has a few extra programs initiated. One is the lock. I assume you both have a digimon form? This program here locks one of you into your digimon form, so long as the other is human. You must both be digimon in order for—Anyamon, was it?—to dedigivolve. It is, in part, because you will be working closely with the Chosen. The portal between the digital world and the human world runs at a very low bandwith. It forces any digimon that passes through it into their natural state. For the Chosen, this can range from rookie to in-training level, although Tailmon grew to a champion naturally, but she’s an exception. We don’t _want_ the Chosen knowing about the Spirits if possible—normally the sectors have their own Chosen and that’s it. But this is a special circumstance.”

“You can travel freely between worlds?” Anyamon asked, curiously, drawing Kouji’s brooding away from the thought that his brother was once again trapped—even if this time there was a way around it. The Warrior of Light let himself sit back down, the weight of Anyamon’s side a reassuring presence.

“Oh yes. Izumi and I put together the portal program after the two worlds synced up. It definitely makes it easier to keep the digimon fed.” Gennai laughed, pulling out another program and fiddling with it, “I wanted to talk to you about this before the others showed up. You both _must_ spend time as a digimon.It is necessary to keep the data maintained so that you may be returned to your own world when the time comes. But I do not believe it is fair, no matter what the Celestial Guardians think, to trap you into a single role. I cannot remove the lock—it is rather sneakily hard-wired into the programs that trigger your evolutions, but I _can_ whip up a couple programs to structure it a little. I plan on having you two placed with one of the Chosen, so I could set up a trigger to swap you both when you travel between worlds, as well as…smooth out any differences the Chosen may notice. What do you say?”

Anyamon and Kouji shared a look. The warrior of darkness let out a low grumble, “I won’t change my decision, Kouji. I will be the one to fight.”

He will be the one to fight. And Kouji will be the one on the sidelines. He grimaced, hating the situation utterly. It was such an inefficient system! Why split their power in half? Why force one of them into impotence, when they would be more powerful together?

But. Kouichi—Kouichi, not Anyamon—had determination shining in those eyes. A confidence that had been missing since the end of their adventure was blossoming once again, supported by the steady pillar of the digimon sharing his soul. And Kouji couldn’t say no.

“Fine.”

Anyamon gave him a toothy smile and bumped his head against Kouji’s leg in gratitude.

Gennai beamed, clapping his hands together, “Well then, I shall have to get to work. I estimate we have another two hours before Agumon and the others give up the search—it should be plenty of time. Now, I will need both your digivices…”


	3. Gennai

“Gennai! I’m so sorry I couldn’t—” Agumon almost tripped over himself in surprise as he burst in through the door to the sitting room. He managed to regain his balance with much flailing, but the sudden stop had Yaga—no Taichi, Ken reminded himself firmly—tripping over _him_ and dragging the both of them to the floor in a heap. Ken came up from behind the two, shaking his head at the spectacle of Agumon attempting to squirm out from under the much larger Chosen. He bent down and picked up Wormmon and stepped around the body blocking the doorway, making his own way into a cozy room. The room was littered with chairs, obviously meant to be accommodating to many different types of digimon, from the average humanoid, to comfortable looking rugs, beanbags, and other miscellaneous items meant for the comfort of the more…unusually built guests. 

Gennai had looked up at the entrance, a green, traditional styled teacup halfway to his lips. Ken saw the older man stifle a laugh which might have sent his tea flying. He returned the cup to the saucer he held and gave them a cheery wave, “Ah, Agumon. We’ve been waiting for you. Care for some tea?” He indicated the other chairs, and the rather large tea tray sitting on a foldable table just to the side. It held enough cups for all of the Chosen, and there were more than enough places to sit, “I’m afraid I was expecting more of you.”

“The others were all busy today.” Ken offered the excuse, keeping his interested attention on the other two participants in this little tea party. The examination was returned by an intense blue stare. He’d never seen this boy before. He appeared older than the other Chosen, although not quite as old as Taichi and the others. Dark hair was kept tied back by a patterned blue and brown bandana, and he was wearing quite a lot of blues. Blue jacket, blue pants. It was his expression that caught Ken’s interest, however. Wary. Cautious. Rigid. The other Chosen were open, friendly, trusting. Even Iori, who had been the most vocal against Ken helping right his wrongs. This boy was…not. 

His digimon was stretched out a little ways away, on a rug in front of a merry fireplace. Ken couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be some sort of large black cat, or a wolf. He was leaning toward the cat idea, judging by the narrow and flicking tail. Dog and wolf tails didn’t move like that.

Curious, cat slit amber eyes were staring at him—Ken firmly decided on cat, rather than wolf no matter what the muzzle shape—before shifting to the now disentangling pile of Taichi and Agumon near the door. Just because he looked like he was a boneless fast asleep kitty didn’t mean much, Ken reminded himself wryly. He set Wormmon on the back of one of the chairs and helped Taichi up, hefting the elder to his feet. 

Agumon took a few more minutes before he managed to gasp out, “Gennai! You found them? Well one of them. There was another—”

“They found me some time ago, Agumon. You were supposed to bring them here first.” Gennai chided good naturedly, “No harm, no fowl. I was hoping for the other Chosen as well, but we’ll make due. Please, please, have a seat.” He waved them toward the plethora of empty chairs. 

Taichi was openly staring at the new boy, immediately jumping in to introduce himself as he plopped into a rather small, swiveling computer chair and rolling it expertly across the wooden floor. It was the closest to the newcomer, who had deliberately chosen a spot that was rather set apart from the rest, “My name is Taichi! Are you a Chosen? Obviously you must be—where are you from? We met Willis, I think he was from America, and Mimi lives out there. What brings you to this section of the world?”

“Kouji.” The boy responded shortly, burying his attention in the tea he’d been ignoring until now. It was clear he had no intentions to continuing the thread of conversation. Ken, who had experience reading people even if his self-loathing blinded him to those closest to him, couldn’t quite tell if it was due to a natural anti-social streak or just heavy thoughts. He seemed to be almost _brooding_ into that tea.

His digimon noticed it too. The great black cat—Ken couldn’t believe that this was a _rookie_ digimon, he was at least half again as large as any of the others—stretched and rolled closer to the boy’s chair, butting his head against his leg. Ken saw some of the tension ease out of the Chosen, and he saw one of his hands slip down to dig into the black fur.

At that, Ken decided it would be better to distract Taichi from the newcomer. Ken knew well how overwhelming people like Daisuke and Taichi could be. He picked a spot between Gennai and the others as sort of a middle ground, moving on to business, “Why did you summon us, anyway?”

“Oh, the usual. The digital world is in peril.” He said cheerfully. That caught Taichi’s attention, making him spin the chair around so fast he overshot and ended up with whiplash. “What!?”

“Oh it isn’t quite that dire.” Gennai responded with a laugh, “Although it could be, if we don’t figure out what is going on. I’d hoped the rest of you would be here so I could explain…”

“Just tell us what’s wrong, Gennai, we can always tell the others later.” Ever the pushy one, Taichi had completely forgotten about the other boy with the prospect of trouble looming in the distance. Ken considered for a moment, and then added after Taichi’s appeal, “Is it…Arukenimon and Mummymon? Have they shown up again?”

“No, no. I believe the problem is an immigrant this time, he isn’t showing up in the databases so he can’t be from this sector.” Gennai folded his arms, “We aren’t quite sure _who_ he is, since no two reports are all that articulate, and the number of witnesses are nearly non-existent. In fact, the only confirmed sighting is from the Koromon Villiage—the one near where you found the Crest of Courage, Taichi—and the Koromon were too busy hiding to get a good look at him. The only thing they agree on is that he “feels like a mega” which is worrisome in its own right.”

“What would he want near there?” Taichi wondered aloud; face set into a hard expression, and his head bowed. He was sitting backwards on the computer chair, leaning forward onto the seat back, “There wasn’t anything other than the village…and the Crest…”

He sat up, staring Gennai in the eye, “What happened to the Crests after the tags were destroyed—anyway?”

“And so…you see what I have begun to suspect. The physical Crests were destroyed, but they were merely manifestations of a power that is an integral part in the cycle of evolution. They belong in the world, sharing that power with all the digimon, although never to the extent you children used them for. Without that power, what you know as the Crests, that cycle would stop.” Gennai paused, clearly reviewing what he had to say as he took a sip of tea. He made a face at it—it was cold. “We’ve already seen a decline in digivolutions in Primary Village. It normally takes three days for a newly hatched baby digimon to evolve. It has been upwards of a week for some now.”

Ken frowned, this sounded bad. He couldn’t…remember it very well, but his Dark Spires had worked on a similar principle. He had…identified the force that allowed Digimon to evolve and…blocked it somehow. It was all fuzzy, like he’d been living in a dream. One he didn’t realize was actually a nightmare until he woke up. Everything from that time felt unreal, blurred, except for the horror and guilt that his actions caused in him. That was painstakingly real. He had been able to block it…but never completely. “Could it be something similar to the Spires?” He asked at last, drawing the conversation back to him, even as the reminders of his evil gnawed at him, “If…I could do it…someone else could.”

Gennai shook his head, “I’m afraid this doesn’t appear to be that sort of interference. The spires blocked specific levels of power. This… Digieggs refuse to hatch. Babies don’t evolve. These are signs—I know it.” He sighed, “And here is where we come to my request. Ken, I _need_ you and the others to find the crests. I need to know if that is what the digimon was looking for. And you must _stop_ him.”

“Where do we fit in?” The flat, somewhat chilly voice cut in, drawing startled attention from the Chosen. They’d completely forgotten about the other boy. He had risen up out of his chair, cold blue eyes fixed straight on Gennai, “We don’t know _anything_ about these Crests. Or Spires. I understand that the world is in danger, but _why **us**_. We shouldn’t _be_ here. We don’t belong here. All the trouble we went through earlier proves that.”

Without thinking, Ken kicked Taichi in the shin when the older boy tried to jump up. He could see the wild-haired teenager getting angry. It was almost like being with Daisuke, although Daisuke would have yelled at Ken, while Taichi rubbed his shin and shot him a dirty look. Ken shook his head, ‘ _Listen.’_ He tried to convey without words. It may be important. This sounded like the continuation of an old argument, perhaps one from before they got here?

Taichi seemed to have understood the meaning and settled back down again, although the brunet was obviously bristling at it. If he had been anything like Daisuke when he was younger, Ken marveled at his self-control. Satisfied there would be no interruptions, Ken turned back to watching. And listening.

“You are here…” Gennai said slowly, weighing his words with a care neither Chosen had ever seen him use. Even Taichi, who remembered the wizened old Gennai of his childhood, hadn’t ever seen him this grave. Gennai, even against the threat of invasion by Vamdemon, always had a laugh and a bad joke to toss about. “Because of what you can do.”

That comment seemed to slap the boy in the face. He stared mutely, obviously not expecting quite that response. It was frustratingly deliberately vague, Ken decided, but this ‘Kouji’ obviously knew exactly what Ken was referring to. That Gennai didn’t want them to know was interesting…but given his background Ken could understand not trusting _him._ Maybe he would tell the others later?

“What do you think would happen if Digivolution failed completely? We have the Armors, but six Champions, against a Mega? _It won’t work.”_

Kouji grimaced, calculating the odds in his head and coming up negative. Slowly, he sank back down into his chair, now more…pensive and worried than the cold anger. His digimon was sitting up next to him now, and they whispered quietly to one another, too soft for Ken or Taichi to hear, since the latter had rolled his chair over to Gennai while they’d been talking. Agumon was closer, the little dinosaur had plopped down on a beanbag near where Taichi had originally been, and hadn’t moved when his partner did. He _looked_ like he’d fallen asleep, but Ken noticed a glint of green. He was eavesdropping, but his targets didn’t seem to notice.

“Now then!” Gennai clapped his hands, breaking the silence in the room, “Enough of this doom and gloom, there will be enough time for that later. Now to properly introduce you three since you should be working together for the present,” He rose to his feet, placing the long since empty teacup precariously on the edge of the tea tray, giving no more mind to it. “Kouji, these are two of our Chosen, one from each Generation if you can believe that. Taichi is the one with the birdnest on his head”—“Hey!”—“And was the leader of the original eight Chosen. His partner is the lazy dinosaur over there—Hey! Agumon! Don’t you be napping now!” 

Called out, the digimon jumped up, looking more guilty than jerked-out-of-sleep-disoriented, but he sheepishly took the reprimand. “I’m sorry. It was just so comfortable…” The wistfulness in his tone indicated that it wasn’t a lie. Agumon likely had wanted to take a nap. Ken had noticed that, for the most part, Digimon weren’t very good at lying. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t avoid the truth occasionally.

“He also has a younger sister, Hikari, and a pet cat.”

“Gee, tell him my favorite food why don’t you.” Taichi grumbled.

“This other young man is Ken.” Even expecting it, Ken felt himself sinking into his chair. He hated being the center of attention. It reminded him too much of… _him_. The Kaiser. The Kaiser felt the attention was only his due, even as he despised those giving it to him, “He is the newest member of our current generation, and Wormmon is his partner.”

Wormmon waved a foreleg in greetings from his place in Ken’s lap, “It is nice to meet you.”

“Ken, Taichi, our guest is Kouji. He is a Chosen from one of our neighboring sectors. He and Anyamon—that is his partner—were sent here to help us with our problem. Unfortunately, he cannot return home until the situation is resolved, so I will have to ask that one of you take him in for the duration of our investigation.” Gennai turned from Ken, to Tiachi, and then addressed them both, “I know both of your parents sign up for the student exchange programs every year—do you think they would be averse to putting up a student so late in the school year?”

Kouji, guessing where the conversation was going, quickly cut in, "We are fine. We'll just camp in the Digital World. We've done it before."

Gennai shook his head, "Don’t you remember what we talked about earlier? Besides, the Chosen tend to travel here directly from the portal located in the computer lab, and the digital gate changes outlet sectors every time. It’d be better if you joined them in school. I'll have you enrolled in the Student Exchange Program and assigned before you can say 'Digivolve'."

“We can take him.” Ken cut in before Kouji could argue further, “My family has plenty of space, and my parents already know about Digimon. I don’t think they would mind.”

There was always an empty room in his house. One that was always kept clean and ready for a brother, a son who would never come home. It was a guest room now, but to Ken, it would always be Osamu’s room.

“Yeah, my place is kinda crowded.” Taichi muttered, “Between my parents, ‘Kari, Tailmon, and Nero…well…it’s enough to make a guy consider moving out.”

Kouji crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, his irritation with the situation growing. Ken knew the type, independent, stubborn, and un-trusting. It would be hard to live with him if he stayed this prickly, but Ken would rather be around to keep an eye on him. Even if Gennai trusted him…

Anyamon, who had been silent until now spoke up, shaking his head and looking up at his partner’s stony face, "I know how you feel about things like this—but we came here to help them; wouldn't it be easier to do that if we were with one of them all the time?"

Kouji struggled against the logic, and Anyamon said something softer. That seemed to decide it, and the Chosen sighed, defeated. Grudgingly he admitted, "Fine. But I don't like imposing on people."

“It won’t be.”

Gennai smiled, relieved to find something working out, "Good. Now to draw up some school records for you."

He pulled out two pieces of paper. Ken noticed, with surprise, that it was school records and personal information. One blank and the other all filled in. He caught a few kanji in the address, ‘Shinjuku? That wasn’t so far away’ before Gennai bent to work, starting to fill out the blank one using the other. Could digimon really use the internet so? It was a scary thought, one Ken was glad he—the Kaiser never caught on to. Imagining what someone could do if they could ravage the web for information was terrifying. Gennai muttered as he worked, "Name…Minamoto Kouji…"

"Put down Kimura Kouji."

"Hmm…?" The guardian glanced up, "Why would I…Oh, right. Is that his name?"

Kouji cut him off again, "Just do it."

Gennai shrugged, "Suit yourself…"

_What…?_ Ken filed that information away. Why? Why would he change his name…?

…Most records were stored online. He likely wanted to prevent the school linking it to his old school, maybe?

He spent some time filling in the form, before announcing he was finished. The white robed guardian whistled softly, a moment later an unfamiliar bird type digimon walked in. Gennai spoke to it for a moment before giving it the now completed papers. The bird-digimon took it in its wings and started to walk away. As it passed Kouji he spoke up, "Are you…Swanmon?"

The digimon stopped walking, "Yes. Have we met?"

Kouji shook his head, "No. I just thought that you were someone I knew."

Swanmon smiles, "Ah. You are Kouji right?" At his hesitant nod she continued, "Stop by Primary Village sometime. I'd love to talk to you about the other Swanmon. I've never met another of my kind."

Kouji gave a small, hesitant smile. It was the first Ken had seen. "Sure."

The bird type digimon smiled back, "See you then."

After Swanmon left Taichi spoke, "Who was that? I thought that Elecmon looked after Primary Village?"

"Hmm..?" Gennai glanced up, "Oh, he still does. Swanmon is helping. She is one of the few Champion level digimon that can travel to the real world's internet. Younger digimon are constantly slipping through the barriers, so she helps out a lot if one of the babies somehow gets in there. That's why I gave the records to her. She's going to slip into the School's Database and put the records there. The weird thing is…Digivolving to a Swanmon should only be possible by using the digimental of love on a Tailmon. It is strange."

Gennai continues, "However, a lot of digimon that should only be attainable through the digimentals have been appearing. Given the other issue we’ve been having, it is a little worrisome. Have any of your group had any trouble with them?"

Ken shook his head, "No. Not that I've heard. But then again with the digital world so peaceful we haven't needed to use them. Also with the….Dark Spires…destroyed we don't need to armor digivolve. We can go champion."

Gennai sighed, "I guess the answer to this riddle will have to wait for another day. Hopefully it will be resolved with the other matter. I'll contact you if I find anything relevant."

The older man stood the discussion clearly over, “Now, I will send Izumi an outline of what we’ve gone over today, which I will ask him to pass out to the others. I don’t know exactly where to look, but there was a reason the crests were located where you found them three years ago. I will continue to search the databases… I’d suggest searching the nearby area. But that will be another day. All that talking made me hungry—dinner, anyone?”

x-x-x

Izumi "Izzy" Koushiro, as he usually did, sat in front of his computer, working silently on his current project. The furious clicking of his keyboard was the only sound in the dim room, as he was absorbed in the lines of code he was generating. Occasionally he’d stop and go back, picking over each method methodically. He lost time while doing this. Izzy was focused. It had been many, many, hours since Taichi and Ken had left, and he had barely ever thought about it. He didn’t notice the sky changing color and darkening as the sun began to go down. Indeed, he was so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice the flashing light that signaled the opening of the Digiport. He yelped in surprise as the screen suddenly blinded him, which led to three heavy objects falling on him, knocking over the chair and sending all of them tumbling to the floor in an undignified tangle. 

The red-head pushed one of the objects off of him and sat up, groaning and massaging his now sore back. He remembered now, Taichi had needed to use the digiport. They could have given him some more warning. They’d taken so long Izzy had decided to work on his homework for his university course, and…well…then he had lost track of time. He shook the stars out of his eyes and regarded the pile of teenagers with exasperation. He found Taichi’s mop of unruly hair right away, but it was the other two made Izzy stop the scolding he’d been preparing to give, taking another look between them. One of them was Ken all right, but the other looked like a near carbon copy. Izzy did not recognize him at all. He had the same blue-black hair, the same blue-grey eyes, the same height; they could have passed as twins except for the fact that the newcomer's hair was shorter and slightly thicker then Ken's. He was rubbing his head, apparently having hit it against either the wall or the computer desk; Izzy winced in sympathy, he had done that once or twice. The transfer wasn’t the smoothest on a good day. 

Off to the side of the pile of kids were two digimon, they seemed to have handled the transfer better. One was the familiar green and brown pinecone digimon of Wormmon’s intraining form, Minomon. The other was unfamiliar to the computer genius, which immediately caught his attention. 

It was a white wolf pup, about the size of an average sized dog. Izzy noticed, categorizing the details—he would need to add them to the database. Fur was primarily white with shining metallic silver near the paws, tail, and ears. There was a navy blue design on its shoulder, and Izzy was startled to realize he recognized it. He cast back into his photographic memory; searching...It had been one among a multitude…hundreds upon thousands of runes. He couldn’t remember exactly…was it the Apocalymon’s tablet? Centaurmon’s ruins? Andromon’s battery? He could see the rune in his memory, crystal clear…now where was it…?

It would come to him, he knew. Just maybe not right now.

Putting it aside the moment, Izzy turned back to the pile and coughed, "Ahem…"

Taichi was the first to untangle himself, he looked at Izzy sheepishly, "Heh, heh, hi Izzy."

Izzy crossed his arms and glanced out the window, "What took you so long?"

The brunette winced, "Well…you see… _Apparently_ Agumon’s errand was a little more complicated than expected, and the Digital World is in trouble again."

“I see that this will require hefty explanation.” Izzy frowned and pulled Taichi to his feet before moving to help Ken. The new kid had already managed it and was nervously standing near the window, smoothing out the teal jacket he was wearing. Ken’s gaze lingered on the new kid, but then he pulled his arm out of Izzy’s grasp with a mumbled “I’m fine.” Izzy shook his head, but let the dark haired kid go. Ken straightened up, grabbing Minomon up swiftly. The little insect digimon made a delighted noise, snuggling into Ken’s arms even as the boy turned to the new kid, “We should head out now—I live in a different part of town.”

“Alright, see you Ken!” Taichi waved with a yawn, and the new kid followed as Ken left. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He hung around for a bit however, waiting until both of the younger Chosen were gone. “Wow, and I thought Yamato was frosty when we first met.” The grumbled complaint had Izzy’s eyebrow quirking in amusement, “Oh, not Ken. He’s decent enough if you get past the ‘why don’t you hate me?’ bit. But that Kouji kid… He was even downright hostile to Gennai, and you know how Gennai is.”

“Is that so?” Izzy frowned, thoughtful. He hadn’t looked at all like Taichi was describing. Or even like Yamato, all those years before. Yamato had been rigid, cold, distant. The new kid…seemed shy. Uncertain maybe. Not that Izzy was any good judge of people. He was probably wrong. People weren’t like computers—they didn’t do what you expect them to 90% of the time. 

“Anyway, Gennai said he’d send you the cliff notes version of the conversation.” Taichi yawned again, stretching his arms, “Man, I’m beat. We’re gonna need to get the gang together, as much as we can anyway. With Mimi and Jou gone…”

Izzy had righted his chair and was plugging away at his computer. He found a new email blinking in his inbox, but he left it for now. He checked his program, finding with annoyance that the mad scramble that had been the Chosen’s landing had added a few lines of random letters into his program. “I’ll try and get in contact with them. Did you get the data from the digimon?”

“There was only one, in the end. Kouji’s digimon. Anyamon, I think is his name. He was rather quiet, not to mention the only one the kid would listen to.” Taichi passed over his Digivice to Izzy, who had pulled out his old laptop. It was obsolete technology by now, as far as most of Izzy’s classmates were concerned. It rarely left his house. He carefully handled the white and yellow machine, clearing a space on his desk to prop it open. He didn’t even use it for the digital gate since he’d gotten the program onto his desktop, but…for his research it was phenomenal. 

He took Taichi’s digivice and plugged it into the port above the keyboard, waiting as the data was downloaded into the computer. It was slower than his desktop, the technology showing its age—but he’d tried to replicate the digivice port on his desktop and it had failed.

At last three windows popped up. The first was of a majestic bird digimon, with silver and gold armor etched with the crest of love. The symbol also rotated casually in the corner of the window, “Prodigious…” He murmured, reading through the information, “A naturally occurring armor digimon? That shouldn’t be possible.”

“Tell me about it.” Taichi plopped himself into a hard backed chair set against the wall. Izzy normally wouldn’t have bothered with more than one chair in his room, but since his apartment apparently became digimon central whenever school was out, he had added a few more. “Digivolving is all out of whack, apparently. That’s part of the problem.”

“Hmm…” Izzy saved the information to the database, and moved to the next window. It maximized to show a black, panther-like digimon. It had a different symbol on its hind quarter, but this one invoked that same sense of familiarity as the one on the white digimon had. As if they’d been seen together. He would have to hunt down that memory. “Anyamon.” 

“Is that it?” 

Bewildered, Izzy turned the screen so Taichi could see it better. The other boy pulled the chair closer, his amusement quickly changing to confusion and disbelief, “Really? And that’s all that’s there? No attacks or anything?” 

Izzy shook his head. Other than the name and classification—Variable type, which he had never _seen_ before—the fields were filled with question marks. Under the main description was a simple sentence:

_Data not found._

Izzy quickly switched to the final set of data, this one showing the same white wolf that had been in his room not fifteen minutes ago. Everything was the same, pure white fur, dark blue symbol on its shoulder—even down to the scarf tied around its neck. “Akemon.” Izzy read aloud, “Variable type.”

The same ‘ _Data not found.’_ Haunted them from the screen. “This shouldn’t be possible.”

“Izzy?” Taichi sounded worried. Izzy was vaguely aware of his friend by his side, shaking him lightly. Taichi was right to be worried. This was wrong. All wrong. His database, and the digivices—Gennai said—were wired directly into the network that Gennai’s order had once used to monitor the digital world. Even if the information didn’t include everything about the digimon, it always had _something_. Even Kimeramon—in all his twisted, unnatural glory—had left a mark on the information network, giving them the barest of his details.

“That digimon doesn’t exist.” It was the only explanation. Every digimon ever created in the digital world had some data for the digivices to scan, and Izzy could download that data tag from the digivices. This one…did not. “It’s impossible.”

“Hey…Izzy…” Taichi spoke thoughtfully. Izzy wasn’t used to that tone from Taichi. He tore his eyes away from the impossibility of the question marks on the screen, and looked at his friend. Taichi had a pensive expression, but he continued when Izzy responded with a shaky, “Yeah?”

“Does the word…Spirit, mean anything to you?”

“When it comes to digimon?” The chosen of knowledge latched onto the query, “Other than regarding Wizardmon’s fate—no, I do not believe so. Why?”

“While Gennai was talking to us, Kouji suddenly demanded to know why he had to help us. Why he was chosen.” Those words, Izzy remembered them. Yamato had yelled that at Taichi, back in Puppetmon’s woods. “Gennai actually _responded_. He said… it was because of what he could do.”

“After that, Kouji stopped arguing, but he and Anyamon talked for a bit. Agumon managed to overhear part of it. He said…he said…” Taichi stopped, groping back in his memory, “something about being told not to use the spirits. Then Anyamon cut in and said they were supposed to be a trump card…Agumon couldn’t hear much more, since they started to talk quieter.”

“Facinating…” Izzy welcomed this mystery. This one he could solve, given enough time and effort—he knew it. Not the damnation of— _Data not found._ “Perhaps if I research, I could find out exactly what it meant by spirits. If Gennai thinks it is important enough to actually give an answer to a question like that—rather than let the asker find the answer in time—it _must_ be instrumental to saving the digital world.”

Those two symbols revolved in his mind, and Izzy _knew_ they had something to do with it. And he _would_ find out. He would not let them stay a mystery for long.

x-x-x


	4. A Whole New World

“He looks enough like a dog you could just let him walk.” Ken said thoughtfully, “But the city has leash laws…” A comment which made Akemon’s ear twitch in irritation. He was a wolf, _thank you_ , not a dog. He craned his neck, trying to level a frosty glare at the boy, but found himself thrown off by how _big_ everything was. It hadn’t bothered him in the Digital World, but here next to his brother in the stairwell of an apartment building, where he knew what height everything _should_ be—it just felt off. Wrong. He wasn’t used to being this small. Steps that took him little to no thought as a human had him puzzling over how to navigate them with four paws, and the walls and ceiling loomed above him—hopelessly out of reach.

The smells though…they were awful. The scent of cleaner clogged his nose, what should have been a pleasant lemon scent was almost gagging him from its strength. Akemon hated it. Akemon wanted to get away from the smell, to find green and growing things, not the acidic taste of chemicals.

Kouji clamped down on those reactions, recognizing them for what they were. He focused on the conversation that was continuing overhead, trying to mute the growing alarm bells at each warped sight, scent, and amplified sound. Kouichi hadn’t liked the idea of a leash—neither did Akemon much, but it beat being stuffed into a backpack like Ken mentioned most of the other digimon travelled. It might not be too bad for a duffel bag or something where he could stretch out, especially if he could have the zipper open so he could feel the air. He didn’t like dark, still, and enclosed spaces.

“I’ll see if I can find one, once we get home.” Ken was saying, “But for now…once we get out of the building you might have to carry him. Hikari and Takeru occasionally carry Tailmon and Patamon around as if they were stuffed toys, just make sure he doesn’t move too much and nobody should notice. People never do.”

Akemon liked that idea even less. It had him growling quietly.

Suddenly, he found himself on his back, paws flailing madly in the air as he was scooped into Kouichi’s arms. Akemon’s first instinct was to scratch; Kouji quelled it, because this was his brother. It was Kouichi looking down at him, not an enemy, so he stilled. That didn’t stop him from glaring.

“I’m sorry.” Kouichi spoke to him softly. Just to him. Akemon grumbled at the indignity, stating that he was perfectly able to walk and didn’t need to be carried. But he didn’t protest as Kouichi shifted him around so that they were both more comfortable, and Akemon was no longer upside down. He even felt a little bit better at this height. The world wasn’t normal again, but at least the perspective wasn’t so drastically skewed. Things were more or less the right height again, maybe a little taller.

The apartment complex’s lobby was even worse than the stairwell when it came to scents. The noxious blend of cleaning products and dirt and rotting scraps gave way to a flood of _people_. They were the only ones in the lobby, but people scents were _everywhere._ Some were fresher; others so faint he couldn’t quite make them out individually and they just became a giant mass of people. It was staggering, a far cry from the overabundance of green and living things and dirt and digimon he’d experienced in the Digital World. They were alien. Alien. Wrong. Akemon began to struggle, drawing confused looks from both Kouichi and Ken as they drew near the door to the street. He could hear the muffled sounds of the road through the glass, of the people bustling past. Izzy lived in a busy part of the city, Kouji noted, straining to keep that foothold. It was nothing to be alarmed of, Shibuya had been worse. Far worse. It was evening. People were going to dinner. Heading home from work. Normal things.

Ken pushed open the door, a rush of scents—people, oh gods, more people—blasted Akemon in the face. The stench of gasoline was magnified a hundred fold, filling the air almost like a palpable haze. Kouji snapped.

He was out the door and running before he even recognized Kouichi’s pained yelp and Ken’s exclamation of alarm. Akemon ran for the only thing he recognized in this world.

x-x-x

Hikari sighed as the doors of the train opened, hefting her heavy pack onto her shoulder. The others were all on the train with her, even though her stop was out of the way for the other two to head home. Boys. She rolled her eyes and stepped out onto the bustling platform, only half listening to Takeru and Daisuke snarking at each other as they followed. She’d had to deal with it all day, except for the few times when Daisuke ended up having too much fun to remember he had a rival. It had been entertaining for a while, but by now Hikari just wanted to get home, where she could rant to Tailmon about the idiocy of boys. Takeru at least should know better. And he did, but Daisuke always managed to rile him up eventually.

They continued bickering until they reached the street, when a quick “Ahem” on her part got Takeru’s attention. He flushed, embarrassed, "Are you sure you'll be alright heading home by yourself?" 

"Yeah!" Daisuke jumped in, puffing himself up in that was he had when he was about to make what he considered a cool move. "'Cause if not I'll walk you home!"

And give them more things to argue about? How about, no. Instead she smiled, “I'll be fine. I have Tailmon with me, remember?"

She pointed to her heavy backpack to emphasize her point. Daisuke pouted, deflating, shot down again. "I guess…"

“Besides, I’m sure Chibimon and Patamon will need some air soon. You guys just head on home.”

Takeru glanced guiltily down at his duffle bag, which squirmed viciously in agreement. “You’re right; I guess I’ll see you at school Hikari."

“Bye ‘Kari!” Daisuke waved, shooting a glare at Takeru as the Chosen of Hope gave her a brief hug. He didn’t dare try to attempt the same. “Tell that lazy brother of yours he still owes me lessons.”

Hikari laughed and waved them off, setting off in her own direction. She could hear an argument start up behind her, but she tuned it out with a resigned sigh. One of these days Daisuke would grow up, and Takeru needed to stop letting him get to him like that.

She glanced at her watch. It was getting late, almost 7pm. She walked in silence, the daylight dimming as night approached. She didn’t quite know what cause her to turn away from the shorter, main thoroughfare to her family’s apartment, and choose a less traveled route to her home, going out of her way to pass by a park that her brother often frequented. It was quieter, and less populated perhaps. She had been getting frustrated with Daisuke and Takeru’s rivalry souring what should have been a relaxing and fun day. Her bag began to squirm as she drew near the park, her digimon partner climbing out to stand on her shoulder, one paw hooked into Hikari’s hair to steady herself, "What is it Tailmon?"

The cat digimon didn't answer; instead she began sniffing the air. After a few minutes she narrowed her blue eyes, "I smell a digimon."

Hikari frowned, "Are you sure it's not one of the others?" It would be the first time Daisuke had actually decided to follow her home when she turned down his offer. If that was the case, she’d need to tell her brother. She liked Daisuke, but that would be going too far.

The white cat nodded, her purple tipped ears lying back against her head, "Positive. It's in the park."

A wild digimon? Here? That wasn’t something she could just walk by. Hikari nodded, "Understood. Let's check it out."

Tailmon soon jumped down from Hikari’s shoulder and began to prowl the shadow lined park. The setting sun had sent the shadows leaping from one set of equipment to another, plenty of nooks and crannies for a digimon to hide if they wanted to. The cat digimon followed her nose, stalking on all fours, her black claws gleaming in the dying sunlight.

Hikari trailed behind, her hand on her D-3 just in case. They hadn’t run into digimon in the Real World since Vamdemon. She never liked to think badly of digimon—they were mostly nice people, who wanted nothing more than to live and let live—but stray digimon in the real world never ended well.

And Tailmon found it, her tail whipping about with agitation. She hissed at the trembling foliage, eliciting a low growl from the underbrush. Tailmon flexed her claws, “’Kari, stay back!”

Hikari didn't listen. She was drawn forward, gently pushing Tailmon to the side as she knelt into the grass. That growl sounded scared, not angry. She knew it just the way she’d known Tailmon hadn’t been evil when they first met, all those years ago. She hadn’t let the situation stop her then, she wasn’t about to now.

She parted the branches slowly, letting the setting sun shine into the leafy depths. A digimon—for no dog could ever have that metallic shine to fur—was trapped amidst the brambles. The plant wasn’t necessarily thorny, but the—wolf sounded right—had a scarf around its neck, which had gotten caught by the gnarled branches. The brush pressed right up against the chain link fence surrounding the park, and the digimon was caught halfway through a hole some animal had made through the barrier. He’d probably tried to scurry through the tunnel and gotten caught.

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” Frightened blue eyes stared up at her in confusion, the growl dying away into a faint whine. It shrank back into the leaves. Tailmon came over, warily trying to get between her partner and the strange digimon "Hikari, this isn’t safe."

"Shush Tailmon. He’s in trouble." Hikari held out her hand, “My name is Hikari. What’s your name?”

The canine stared suspiciously at the offered hand, glancing up warily at the brunette's face as the panicked, feral glint receding from his eyes, "Akemon…"

"Akemon? That’s a nice name." Hikari could literally see him calming down as she watched. It was a slow process, but the digimon stopped shaking, even if he was still trapped between the metal barbs of the fence and the branches of the bush. “How did you get here Akemon?”

“The smells…” Akemon whined, trying to cover his nose with his paws. One was caught beneath him, pinned in place by his awkward position, but the other tried in vain to block it out. Tailmon came forward suddenly, “You get used to it, trust me.” She sounded almost…sympathetic? The cat digimon glanced sidelong at Hikari, “There was a reason Vamdemon didn’t bring many beast-type digimon with him, except Mammothmon, but he was supposed to go berserk. The human world…well…it stinks.”

 _‘And yet you came for me’._ Hikari thought, watching as Tailmon crawled into the small space, her earlier hostility and suspicion left by the wayside in light of the situation. The Tailmon of three years ago would have never been so trusting, even to her. ‘ _Even if you didn’t realize it at the time.’_

Tailmon worked to free the digimon since Hikari couldn’t both hold the branches open AND work the knots out of silver fur. She carefully minded her claws, and after some nervous looks, Akemon relaxed and let her. At least the poor thing had enough sense not to struggle much, the torn and cut metal wiring from the fence could easily scratch and draw blood.

She realized that she didn’t know what to do once they got the digimon free. She could take him home, she guessed. If it weren’t so late she could have taken him over to Izzy’s and let him back through the portal, but…that was a decent ways walk from here, even though he still lived around the same area.

Taichi wouldn’t mind. And Tailmon seemed okay with him, now that all the posturing and growling had ceased. The digimon was talking quietly, giving him tips on how to handle the sensory overload, even relating a couple of her experiences during the hunt for the Eighth Chosen Child, although she left her part in Vamdemon’s plan out of the retelling.

Speaking of her brother, the phone rang. She shifted so as the hold the opening with one hand, using the other to fumble her phone out of her bag. Taichi’s cell number danced across the screen, along with the current time. She winced; this detour had cost her at least another hour. Of course he would be worried; she’d told him she would be back by 7. She flipped the phone open and prompted, “Hello?”

She had to pull it away from her ear when Taichi’s worried ramblings came pouring through the speaker. She waited for a lull in his rhythm before answering, “Yes we all got back okay…No …Yes…For goodness sakes nii-san! Nothing happened!...Well. Something did happen, I guess, but nothing like that! I found a digimon in that park you and Tailmon like. He got stuck pretty badly; Tailmon’s almost got him loose."

Tailmon had tried to untie the bandana first, but the wolf had growled sharply at her, so she had instead worked at clearing away the branches tangled in his fur. Next to go was the broken metal, her claws slicing through the thin wiring without much effort. The only things left were the multiple splintered branches hooked into the bandana, and she was trying to convince the squirming digimon to stay still, “Oh don’t get your tail in a twist. I’m not going to cut it. If you keep moving like that my claws might slip, and then where would we be?”

Hikari smiled, before she realized her brother was speaking, “Oh. Well. I don’t know how he got here, but I was planning on bringing him home. Tailmon would be able to look after him while I’m in school and we could take him back to the Digital World after class. What? His name? Akemon. Yeah. He’s a little white wolf—what? Really? Oh. If he’s never been in the human world before he might be in shock. Bolted straight for the nearest patch of greenery I think. Oh, okay. I’ll call Ken. Thanks. I’ll be home soon.”

She hung up, turning her attention back to the struggling digimon, “Don’t worry Akemon, we’ll find your partner.” She said it to be comforting, but the digimon went rigid. Tailmon took advantage of the momentary pause to untie the bandana, although how she did it with claws, Hikari would never know.

“Kouichi…” The whisper was like a dawning memory. All of a sudden the digimon went ice cold, “I need to go.”

He tried to push past Tailmon, but the cat digimon barred his path, “Just wait. Don’t go running off again.” She waved the bandana at him, which had the wolf digimon snapping at it in an attempt to grab it back. Tailmon was too quick though, snatching it away again.

“He’s with Ken.” Hikari said hurriedly, before the digimon realized he could bolt the other direction. Tailmon had widened the opening in the fence when she cut the edges loose. “I can call him and they can meet us. They were leaving Izzy’s so it can’t be too far away.”

x-x-x

"Please stay there. We'll be right over."

Ken hung up his cellphone, indulging in a heavy sigh of relief. He’d despaired at finding Akemon in the giant city, and Kouji had been nearly frantic with worry. It had been all Ken could do to keep _him_ from running off and getting lost too. "That was one of the other Chosen. She found Akemon."

"Where?"

"A nearby park. Let's go."

x-x-x

Kouji—Kouji, not Akemon, watched Hikari hang up the phone; "They're coming here now. Ken told us to sit tight."

He nodded stiffly; he didn’t know what had come over him. He’d just…snapped. Snapped and ran, Akemon’s instincts drowning him in sights and smells and the insistent demand that it was all _wrong_. He felt like he’d been put through the ringer. And he ached. Oh not the physical ache from running so far and so fast, not the remembered pain of the scratches, nor was it from being stuck for so long one of his paws was tingling painfully. No, he mentally ached. It was as if he’d just conquered his Beast Spirit. As if he’d just fought the instincts and won. He didn’t count it as winning, he thought sourly as the girl took the bandana from her digimon and tied it back where it belonged—a little ripped but still intact—he’d lost it and just run. It had taken the combined efforts of Hikari _and_ Tailmon to bring Kouji back. And Akemon wasn’t defeated, just quiet. The digimon had slunk back into the subconscious, but wasn’t gone. Never gone.

These weren’t like the spirits, Kouji realized with a start. Akemon _was_ a digimon. Not the data left over from one, with instinctual instruction bundled within. That’s why it hadn’t felt like releasing a spirit. That’s why it worked more subtly. _He_ was Akemon. Akemon was created for him. That’s why he’d been fully aware as he ran, even as his human self had been swallowed up by all the new input.

He crawled out from under the bush, Tailmon didn’t stop him this time, and collapsed in a boneless heap on the grass, back left paw filled with pricks and needles. He knew he should walk it off, but didn’t care. The girl said Kouichi was coming. He had to believe that. He didn’t even growl when Tailmon sat down next to him and began to pick the leaves out of his coat, smoothing out the tangles the branches had caused. She was…nice. Sensible. She’d tried to protect her partner from what could have been a dangerous situation, and then proceeded to help when she realized it was not. He could respect that.

They both felt _safe_ , he realized, in a way he’d not felt before.

It was a simple feeling, just a “We’re here, and everything will be fine.” And he believed it, where normally those words would only receive a derisive snort. Hikari smelled nice too. And if he focused on that, he could ignore everything his senses were telling him. He didn’t have to think about the fact that he could pick out twenty individual people who had passed this way over the last two hours. That had been one of Tailmon’s first pieces of advice. Focus on one thing. One scent. Ignore the rest. At least until it settled down.

With that in mind, he fell into an exhausted sleep.


	5. Settling In

Hikari sat in the grass with Tailmon and Akemon, long after the digimon had fallen into a fitful sleep. “Poor thing.” She murmured, itching to smooth out some of the ruffled fur, but Tailmon had most of that covered. She had a pile of crushed leaves at her side, and was running her claws through the fur, searching for anything that might be hidden while she groomed.

“He must be young.” Tailmon remarked, drawing Hikari’s attention. She tilted her head, “You think so?”

Tailmon nodded, “It’s only ever this bad right after the first major digivolution. Try going from not having a nose, or an average one, to one that smells ten times better than any dog, and THEN getting thrown into the stink of the human world. It settles quickly, luckily. If you digivolve a lot then you get used to the changes, which is why the others never had a hard time.”

“It’s strange…if he was so young, then how is he still a rookie in this world? As you said, the others all dedigivolved.”

Tailmon shrugged, “Who knows? Why don’t I turn back to Plotmon? Why am I a champion? I’m no older than Patamon, really.”

“Why is it so bad here?” Hikari took a moment to pull out her D-Terminal and sent her brother a quick email informing him that they were still waiting for Ken. Akemon had covered a surprisingly amount of distance in that frantic run, Ken had still been near Izzy’s and it was at least a twenty minute walk. They had time, and she was worried that she hadn’t known anything about this sort of situation, “If it’s anything specific maybe we could do something to help…”

She hadn’t even finished talking before Tailmon was shaking her head dismissively, “It is you humans. You all smell different, and there are hundreds upon hundreds—thousands even—all packed together like fish in a net. Digimon always smell like digimon, and we are far more spread out. Beast-type digimon don’t usually live in the cities either, which is the closest we ever get to your world. They also avoid the factory areas like a cat to water.”

“There are other things too—I can tell the moment your mom decides she needs to wash the windows, or if she wants to put off cleaning the kitty litter. I don’t know how you humans stand those unnatural smells—or the smoke from those cars of yours. It’s everywhere. A cat needs some decent air every now and then, or else it’s enough to make even _me_ sick.”

“So that’s why you like the park. And the beach.” It dawned on Hikari. Every few days, more often if they couldn’t get to the digital world, Tailmon always liked to go to this park. Hikari would sit on the swings and they’d just talk. On a particularly nice day, they’d go to the beach near the school, and Tailmon would just turn her face into the wind, breathing deeply.

Tailmon nodded, “The plants and the sea breeze help. It makes me think of the Digital World.”

It was closer to thirty minutes by the time Hikari spotted someone entering the park. The sun was long since gone, and the lamps had flickered to life in that time. She’d had to fend off more worried emails, and had just barely stopped her brother from marching out to check on them. He could be such a helicopter sometimes. He _knew_ she could take care of herself in the Digital World; it was the Real World he was paranoid over. Akemon’s partner—at least she assumed it was his partner—was hurrying down the path ahead of Ken, who was lagging behind somewhat. She took a double take when the boy passed under one of the lamps lining the path—he looked to be about her age, maybe a little older, and looked a lot like Ken at first glance.

Hikari pushed herself to her feet, waving them over as soon as she knew they would see her. She was off the path a little, they hadn’t moved far from the bush they found Akemon in, the little guy had fallen asleep as soon as possible. Ken’s look-a-like reached her first, out of breath and frazzled. She smiled reassuringly at him; she knew he was a good partner. He was worried. Worry for his partner. Relief warred with the worry and Hikari found herself wanting to reassure him, “Kouichi?”

He startled, looking at her, and then past her to where Tailmon was standing over Akemon protectively. “Akemon…” He breathed, the name almost choked out. He fell to his knees and gathered the digimon carefully into his arms. The wolf stirred, eyes cracking open a sliver and then sighing, snuggling into his partner’s arms.

Hikari walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, “Are you Kouichi?”

His head jerked up, “Y-yes.” And then he shook it, as if clearing out cobwebs, “N-no. It’s Kou-ji. But he calls me Kouichi sometimes.”

“Ah, a nickname.” Hikari smiled, “Probably because you are number one, eh?”

At his blush, she giggled, “Don’t worry; I’m no stranger to nicknames, or puns. My brother likes to think he’s downright punny sometimes. I’m Hikari. I’m glad we managed to get you two back together.”

“Thank you.” He looked so relieved, even as he gently shifted his partner to be able to stand. He turned to her and gave her a shallow bow, the best he could manage with an armful of Digimon. It was Hikari’s turn to blush in embarrassment, “There’s no need! Really! I’m just glad to help.”

“I would be careful with him, if I were you.” Tailmon climbed up to Hikari’s shoulder, so she could be at the level to eye Kouji intently, “He had a bad case of sensory overload. He’s too young to have been taken out of the Digital World.” Her tail lashed, showing her agitation, “He’ll be sensitive to smells and noise. Stay inside. Stay quiet. The shock will pass soon enough, quicker if you let him sleep as long as he wants.”

He nodded, gratefully, “Thank you—ah—”

“Tailmon.” She responded haughtily. Hikari gave Tailmon a curious look as Ken caught up to them. He caught Kouji’s attention, demanding in his quiet way, to know what happened. The diversion let Hikari back up a bit, tilting her head to address Tailmon in an aside, “What was that for?”

Tailmon shrugged, wrapping her tail around Hikari’s shoulders. She dug her paws into Hikari’s hair. Almost…possessively.

“I…never had anyone to help me through it. The human world is the worst, but some parts of the digital world can be pretty bad…” She admitted, “When I first became Plotmon…it was hard.”

Hikari didn’t even think about it, she just swept Tailmon off her shoulder and into a hug, “I’m sorry I took so long to find you.”

Clawed paws dug into her shirt, returning the hug as best the smaller digimon could.

x-x-x

Ken stuffed his hands in his pockets, lost deep in thought as he walked down the street. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how to deal with this new Chosen. He’d been thrust into their midst with obvious reluctance and after leaving the Digital World he just seemed… _different._ Instead of allying his suspicions, that difference gnawed at him in a completely separate way. Little details had him glancing sadly at Kouji—no, Kimura—and then jerking his gaze away in both irritation and pain. He had to keep the other distant. He had to. He shot another glance--the other was keeping pace with him as they walked, cradling the exhausted Akemon with a tenderness he never would have believed given the way he’d acted to Gennai. They’d gone the long way home—walking and a bus ride—instead of the subway, to spare Akemon the noise and the press of bodies in the tin cans that the trains could be at times. Although it was late enough it probably wouldn’t have been a problem. He also liked the walk because it was darker, and the dark blurred details so Ken didn’t realize how much Kimura looked like _him._ Like what Osamu should have been, he had lived.

Perhaps it had been the bandana. Perhaps it had been the hostility. Osamu had been quiet, but not rigid. Kimura seemed…softer now. The hard edges blurred away without the power and mystery of the digital world. Or maybe it was seeing him so cycle through emotions beyond anger and stoicism.

' _Osamu…_ ' His hands curled into fists at the wistful thought, fingernails digging into his palm. He thought that he had gotten over this; the burden of guilt that had haunted him since his brother's death. The feeling that maybe, just maybe, if Ken hadn't wished for him to go away, Osamu would still be around. The wistful thoughts of a young child, whose last words with his brother had been angry, spiteful, and directed to hurt. That argument was the last time Ken had spoken with his older brother. Osamu died the next day.

' _I didn't mean it Aniki!'_ A younger Ken had cried then, tears gathering in his large eyes, _'Come Back!'_

But he didn't come back.

Ken shook his head violently; there was no reason to be thinking about this now. He should've been thinking about what to tell his parents when he got home. His parents…

Ken froze in mid-step. How would his parents react? His mother had always been an emotional woman, much more comfortable with showing her emotions than her son was. She had cried for weeks after Osamu's death, clinging to her husband and youngest son like a drowning woman clings to a rope. Ken's father had expressed his own grief a different way, by pushing Ken harder and harder in his school work.

“Ken?” Suddenly he noticed he’d lagged behind. Kimura stood a few feet in front of him, looking back at him with genuine concern. He gathered himself and forced himself to start walking, “I’m fine. Come on, we are almost home.”

He let Kimura stay a few steps ahead, surreptitiously wiping something from his eye. Dust, he told himself. Only dust. Nevermind that it had been wet.

He had resented the attention once, believing that they had tried to replace the son they had lost by forcing Ken into his brother's place. Yet, Ken couldn't really blame them now. He had just felt neglected. They had seen Osamu, not Ken. When they complimented him, they were praising how much like Osamu he was. Athletic, smart, and infamous, they were all things Osamu had been before he died. It was no wonder he had taken refuge in the Digital World, a place where no one knew his brother. The one thing that had been _his_ before Osamu had tried to take it away.

Ken shook his head, catching the attention of his partner digimon. Minomon popped out of Ken's backpack, somehow balancing on his shoulder with the thin tip of the pinecone, "What's wrong, Ken?"

"Nothing Minomon…I am just worried about my parents’ reactions."

The little digimon bounced in place as Ken walked, his high, piping voice asked "Why?"

"It’s…nothing." Ken shook his head. He stared straight ahead, counting the steps toward his home, Minomon a comforting presence on his shoulder.

x-x-x

Ken walked silently down the hallway of his apartment, mulling over the events of the day. His parents had taken Kimura's arrival rather well. Apparently they had been notified by the school about the 'exchange program' hours beforehand, and all their shock must have been either used up, or hidden before Ken brought Kimura home. His mother had looked pale, but she’d been determined to be the proper host, having a small reheated dinner ready for them when they got home. She’d been startled over having a “dog” in the house at first—the exchange program had never said anything about pets—but once Ken explained Akemon was like Minomon… His parents were surprisingly tolerant of digimon. Perhaps they recognized what Minomon had done for Ken. What he meant to Ken.

They had given Kimura Osamu's old bed room, just as Ken expected. He paused in front of the open door, looking in to a room which was always dark. Always closed. Always empty. Now it wasn’t. He didn’t know how to feel about that. It _was_ still Osamu’s room, even if his brother’s things were long since been packed away.

Kimura stood over by the window, looking out toward the city lights. Ken blatantly ignored the little part of his mind that saw his older brother standing there, he would get over it. Instead he glanced at the rest of the room. Kimura’s jacket lay discarded on the bed, a blue-green splotch of color in the otherwise neutral room. Akemon was asleep on the bed, head buried under the jacket to muffle both scent and smell. Kimura hadn’t said much. Not beyond what Tailmon had told him. Ken hadn’t known the digimon were susceptible to such things, but he supposed a canine or cat-type would have a better nose than say, Patamon or Chibimon. Although the In-Training digimon had a suspiciously keen nose for food…

Ken shook his head, stifling a yawn. He had school tomorrow so he couldn't stay up all night being paranoid. He didn’t understand the new kid, things just seemed…different since returning from the Digital World. Kimura had even participated in dinner’s conversation, shyly answering Ken’s parent’s questions about his family, although he avoided saying where he was from. Perhaps it had just been stress. Ken knew he should trust Gennai, but he _hated_ the secrecy. He hated being able to _see_ that something was off, but not be able to do anything about it.

Gennai’s cryptic comments. Agumon’s eavesdropping results. Kimura’s personality shift. Even Akemon’s outburst was circumspect. What were the odds that a digimon young enough to be susceptible would be partnered to one of the Chosen? Ken supposed that Kimura might have been called only recently, and that was why Akemon was so young, but that thought just itched at him. Kimura hadn’t acted like he was new to the Digital World. Ken distinctly remembered the wonder and joy he’d experienced upon discovering that magical, strange, and wonderful world. It was partially those feelings that had led the Kaiser to be so possessive of that world. It was his to keep and to use.

Kimura hadn’t been flustered by anything. He didn’t even have the happy appreciation of the Older Chosen, who were used to it but treated every visit as a gift they might never see again. Kimura had a grim, wary approach to the Digital World. He treated it as if it were…part of a duty. Constantly on the look out.

Then again, he supposed some people were just like that. Ken shook his head. More to the point, as close as the partner and digimon, Akemon was not old enough to have a handle his senses, and yet Anyamon was clearly further evolved. He hated the idea of assigning a level to them, but if he _had_ to he would say Anyamon was a _rookie_. His experience would also peg Akemon for a rookie. None of the in-training digimon were quite so large, or complex. How could there be two rookie forms? Two personalities…two rookies…

The thought slid away from him. He guessed Anyamon might be a champion like Tailmon…With a sigh he shoved everything away. He was tired. His thoughts were getting all jumbled up. That was enough standing here—he had to talk to Kumura.

He knocked on the door frame once, enough to catch the other Chosen’s attention, but not enough to wake Akemon—hopefully. The digimon didn’t stir, but Kimura turned. “We will need to be up early; it is a 15 minute walk, and they probably will need some time to get you placed in a class.” Ken spoke quietly, “Akemon and Minomon can stay here, and we can pick them up after school.”

“Gennai mentioned the computer lab?” Kimura asked at the same volume, he didn’t want to wake Akemon either, “Wouldn’t they need to come with us?”

Ken shook his head, “The others go to a different school. We will meet up with them afterwards.”

Kimura nodded, and turned back toward the window “Ken?”

He’d almost turned away, but stopped, glancing back over his shoulder, “What is it?”

“Your mother…” Kimura trailed off, “She…isn’t comfortable with me, is she?”

So he did pick up on that. Ken glanced away, letting out a heavy sigh. He leaned against the door frame, trying to find out just what to say, “…You look like my brother.”

Kimura turned slowly; his eyes immediately found the picture tucked away in the corner of the dresser. Ken followed his gaze—his mother hadn’t moved it with the rest of Osamu’s things? It was small, it wasn’t like the memorial photo they still kept in the living room, but it was there. “He…died…Five years ago. We never got over it.”

Before he could say something that he might not be able to take back, Ken shook his head, turning away, “Good night, Kimura.”

x-x-x

Kouichi heard Ken’s footsteps retreat down the hall, and a click as a door settled into its frame. He left the window and closed his own door, blocking out the view from the hall. Without thinking he flicked the lock, his eyes kept going back to the photo on the dresser. It was a boy of about Ken’s age, with a quiet smile and large glasses. His hair was thick and shaggy. Ken’s brother.

There was a sleepy yawn and the shuffle of cloth from behind him, and Kouichi pulled himself away from photo. Akemon was shifting, stretching, and rearranging the blankets he was curled up on. Kouichi grimaced, as he saw drooping blue eyes peering out from beneath his jacket, “Sorry. Did we wake you?”

“Maybe.” Akemon yawned, still drowsy. He shifted, jerking his head to toss the jacket so it was lying across his neck and back, almost a blanket. Kouichi knelt down at the side of the bed, to bring them on an even level. “Are you okay?”

“I still smell the detergent from dinner’s dishes.” Akemon snorted in disgust, trying to clear his nose, “But…I know what to pay attention to now. Ignoring it made it explode. I’m just…tired. Akemon…it’s not like the other spirits.”

Akemon rolled over on the bed, eyes closed and paws outstretched. Kouichi smiled and moved onto the bed next to him, ruffling the thick fur around his neck, “You know, you are pretty cute like this.”

Akemon growled at that, using one paw to swipe weakly at the offending hand. The he stopped, bolting upright and staring at the white bandage that wound its way around Kouichi’s forearm. Kouichi flinched, automatically moving to hide the evidence. Then he stopped and sighed, it had been seen. No point in trying to cover it up now. He let Akemon inspect the scratch critically, “I did this.”

It wasn’t a question. Both of Kouichi’s arms would have been littered with scratches if it hadn’t been for his jacket taking the brunt of Akemon’s frantic clawing. It had been the one that had broken both fabric and skin that had caused him to lose his grip. Kouichi had mended the jacket after dinner while Akemon slept, borrowing a needle and thread from Ken’s mother. It had been then when he’d noticed her unease. She’d hesitantly offered to fix it, but he’d declined. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to mending clothes.

“Don’t worry about it, little brother.” He smiled, tweaking one of Akemon’s ears with a little flick. He couldn’t give him a proper hug like this, but while they had gotten closer over the years, they still weren’t the most overtly affectionate of siblings. They liked quiet contact. It was nice. It was a way to remind each other that they were never alone.

Akemon hunched in on himself, and Kouichi could see the guilt and self-loathing starting to move in. He wasn’t about to let it get comfortable. He reached out and dragged Akemon closer, settling the startled wolf against his side. He wasn’t about to admit it, but he liked being able to pick up his brother like this. His indignant reactions to being manhandled were a good distraction from unpleasant thoughts.

“You aren’t going to _stop_ that are you?” Akemon grumbled, accusatory. Kouichi just gave him a sly smile. They were both far more comfortable when it was just them. “Just you wait; I’ll get revenge when _you_ don’t have any hands.”

“I think Anyamon is a little too large for you to pick up, little brother.” He chuckled at the responding grumblings, which ended up with a plaintive whine, “Why do I have to be so _tiny?_ Takuya would die of laughter, and then he would come back to taunt me about it.”

“Just be glad he is not here.” On a whim Kouichi scratched Akemon right behind the ears, in the spot he’d noticed his class’ pet rabbit always enjoyed. Kouichi had always liked that rabbit. It was getting old, and was rather docile, but it always got to his feet to demand a petting when it was Kouichi’s turn to feed it. He was surprised to find Akemon completely melt under the touch, going near boneless.

“Akemon likes that…” His brother muttered, his voice thick, sounding almost dream-like. Kouichi stopped suddenly, and Akemon made a plaintive whine. This was wrong. He’d expected a sharp nip, or another swipe. Not…this. Kouichi pulled back warily, “…Kouji?”

The small body went rigid at his voice, and then shook violently, trying to shake himself out of a stupor.

“Akemon doesn’t want you to stop.” Kouji said grimly, looking up at Kouichi, “He is _not_ a spirit.”

Kouichi could believe that. Anyamon had been _there_ in a way Lowemon wasn’t. But… “Ophanimon just said to treat it like another evolution.”

“I’m not wrong about this.” Kouji refused to budge on the point, “Akemon is…me. But he’s not me. I don’t even notice the difference until someone calls me on it. Wolfmon…was a set of instructions. He was confidence. Skill. I knew things as Wolfmon, but it was still me. Garmmon. Determination. Power. It was a fight, controlling that power, but I was the one fighting.”

“Now…this feels like _me,_ nii-san.” Kouji huddled closer to Kouichi, not protesting when the elder twin moved him into his arms. “I know it isn’t. I’m _human_. But I’m not a human-as-digimon like Wolfmon. Akemon likes being held. Akemon likes your scent. Akemon is _happy_ , even as he feels sick from the human world’s scents.”

“Do _you_ like being held?” It was quiet, but the question cut through Kouji’s increasingly hysteric ramblings. His brother was going to think himself into a panic if he went too much further.

“…yes—no—I _shouldn’t_ …and it _scares_ me.”

 _Because it might not be me._ Kouichi knew that feeling all too well.

“I was Duskmon.” Kouichi admitted quietly, “I wasn’t a human. Just Duskmon. It gives me nightmares now, but at the time…it was perfectly normal. I remember…trying to kill you all. Multiple times. I saw Seraphimon _die,_ and the only thing I could feel at the time was annoyance than Mercurimon was the one to kill him.” He took a breath, shivering at merely touching those memories, “I understand. It’s alright to be scared. You’ve never gone through something like this before.”

Cherubimon had taken Kouichi, the boy, and _twisted_ him. Twisted the spirits, twisted his soul, twisted them all up and around and together so you couldn’t tell where one started and the other began. Often, in the dark of the night, Kouichi would wonder if that was why he felt so _right_ as Lowemon. If that was why he felt _wrong_ in his own skin. He’d gotten even more withdrawn after he returned home, uncomfortable with himself. The sense that something was _missing_. Something he would never get back. He didn’t even want to think about how things might have turned out if Kouji and the others hadn’t tracked him down. There had been a gaping hole in his soul, and he had been _dying_.

A hole that still itched at him. He could feel Anyamon in the back of his mind, a warmth—muted by distance. Kouichi closed his eyes and reached, reached for the warm presence he couldn’t bring himself to hate, even as all sense had him screaming that he would be trapped again if he did it. He’d beaten that voice before, when he’d gotten over his fear of Duskmon to embrace Lowemon. Anyamon settled into and around his twisted self, just as the digicode snaked around his body and molded it. It felt _right_. His body shifted, settled, and then he _was_ Anyamon.

The first thing that bombarded him was the sheer number of scents, leaking through the miniscule gaps in the window frame, from under the door, from the ventilation grate. He blocked it all out—Anyamon knew what to do. He was older than Akemon. He was the elder. And Kouichi knew enough to listen to Anyamon. He breathed in the scent of his brother, nestled uneasily between his paws. The warrior of darkness relaxed, nuzzling Akemon when he tried to move out of the encircling forelegs, “Stay.”

“You’ll be caught!” Akemon hissed, alarm overriding everything as he scrambled away, presumably to return to being human. Anyamon grabbed the pup by the scruff of his neck, neatly depositing him back into the encircling paws. “Sleep.” It came out in a rumbling purr, “I locked the door. It will be fine.”

A flicker of will, and the light died, darkness flooding the room—the only light the glimmer from the city beyond the glass.

“Let Akemon help you, Kouji.” He rumbled quietly, feeling his brother’s body slowly relax in response, “He knows what to do, just as you do as a human.”

Kouji’s protests slowly died as exhaustion and Anyamon’s low purr swept him off to sleep.


	6. Preparations

“Kimura!” Ken hurried through the crowded hallway to catch Kimura before he left his final class of the day. It wasn’t so bad near the upper level classes, but he still tried to ignore the way people hastily moved out of his way. There had been collateral damage from his arrogance, he admitted. Most people were hesitant to approach him, even as they wondered what had happened to their arrogant boy wonder. He had deliberately underperformed to try and lose the shine of genius, but… that had just garnered him attention of a different kind. At least quitting the soccer team had mostly gotten rid of his fan club. 

The other Chosen looked worn out, but otherwise seemed well. It was late enough in the year that people could have been resentful of a newcomer, especially one with Kimura’s class statistics behind him. Ken had seen the schedule the office clerk had handed off to Kimura that morning--surprised as he was to find out that Kimura was in 3rd year, he recognized the schedule as a rigorous course of upper level classes. Considering this school was one for the gifted, it spoke highly of Kimura’s previous grades.

He didn’t think anyone would cause actual trouble for the new student, but Ken knew well what resentment and jealousy could do to people. Especially to newcomers. He’d borne the brunt of the Upper Classmen’s jealousy for the greater part of the year as he’d continually showed up their test scores while being only a 1st year.

They pulled away from the mass of people, both moving unusually fast to escape the attentive stares of the other Upper Classmen, curious as to what their tarnished star had to do with their transfer student. Ken let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when they finally made it out of the school building. He slowed the pace, easing his bag on to his shoulders. It was heavy, filled with textbooks, both class related and not. He’d found it harder to absorb information, in comparison to…before. He actually needed to study, rather than take one glance and memorize it. He…didn’t mind, actually. It felt better this way. He was actually earning his knowledge.

“I realized I didn’t have your email.” Ken broke the quiet. One thing he noticed between the two of them was that the silences stretched long. They weren’t uncomfortable silences—not at all. They were surprisingly companionable, as he’d discovered on the walk to school that morning. It was the silence of not needing words; neither were much for useless chatter. “Or else I would have asked you to meet me at the gates. I’m afraid the upperclassmen don’t like me much.”

“Email? I don’t have a phone or anything to check it.”

“The D-Terminal email.” Ken explained, pulling out the machine Izumi had given him. And then he paused. The others had their D-3s create the D-Terminals, but that had only been because they needed them to store the digimentals. Izumi and Gennai had worked together to design the things, and it had been the chosen of knowledge who had supplied the older group, and eventually Ken. Cell phones could send email too, he supposed, but the D-Terminals were years ahead of the current technology and worked on a different network. Cell phones wouldn’t work in the Digital World. “I suppose…I will have to ask Izumi if he has another. When we split up it is easier to keep in contact through email.”

Kimura took the rectangular silver device, popping the screen opening to check the interface. After a few moments he handed it back to Ken, “Sounds useful. The digivices only track.”

“Are there other Chosen, where you are from?” There would be no need for tracking if Kimura was the only one. He’d figured out from listening to Hikari and Takeru’s stories that Chosen Children were only called in times of crisis for the Digital World, and those types of situations usually needed more than a single person. He almost expected Kimura not to answer, but he got a response. It was soft—he seemed to be naturally soft spoken, regardless of however he’d acted in the Digital World—but Ken caught it over the street noise as they walked, “Five. Then I joined. So six.”

Five. There were five other Chosen Children, somewhere in this world. He wanted to say Japan—Kimura was obviously Japanese and spoke Japanese like a native—but it couldn’t be. They would have met him before now. How many others could be out there? He’d been told of Willis and Micheal, but how many others helped protect the Digital World?

How come they never tried to stop him? 

The thought bothered Ken as they fell into silence again. If there were other Chosen out there, why hadn’t he, as the Digimon Kaiser, ever known about them? They wouldn’t have been able to ignore the…things…he’d been doing, right? They should have tried to stop him. Even if he hadn’t met them, he should have seen random spires destroyed. Something.

But then Ken thought about the map he’d had in his fortress’ control room. Squares upon squares of sections, each with a control spire. What had been beyond that edge? The Digimon Kaiser hadn’t bothered to look, taking as much territory as he could safely control. 

Could there be other servers of the Digital World out there? Each with their own Chosen? It was an interesting thought, and he might have to speak to Gennai about it. Or Izumi.

The question followed him home, haunted him as he entered his family’s apartment. He put it aside once they returned, busying himself in changing out of his school uniform and into something more comfortable. It was nearing the end of the school term, so soon he would be free of the uniform for a while. Minomon pounced on him as soon as he opened the door to his room, “Is it time to go meet the others?” The digimon asked hesitantly, perched once more on his shoulder. Ken gave the little digimon a curious glance, “You appear to be in a hurry. Did something happen?”

He hadn’t worried about leaving Minomon home with Akemon. The digimon had seemed quite well behaved in the Digital World, and Hikari had said the fit should pass after the night. A suspicion blossomed in his mind—had the other digimon hurt Minomon? Or bullied him?

“No. No!” Minomon squeaked, “He just asked…a lot of questions. He told some interesting stories too. There was one I wanted to share with Patamon though…”

Relieved, Ken continued packing. His school started sooner than the others, and let out sooner, but not by much. If they wanted to beat them there they would need to hurry.

x-x-x

Ken led the way to the computer lab. Kouichi followed, although at a slightly slower pace. He was being very, very careful not to jog the duffle bag as he walked. Akemon had been dubious about climbing in, but Ken had insisted. 

“Akemon looks too much like a dog.” Ken reasoned, “Security would never let him in.”

It made sense. The guard at the entrance had looked at them funny, obviously not recognizing them as students. He’d made some noise about letting them in before Ken convinced him to call his superior. The manager had taken one look at Ken and waved them through—obviously he was known to these people. Curious, Kouichi listened to the conversation behind him as the Manager was lecturing the on duty guard,

“—recognize him? He’s the one that won the International Computer Programming Contest! If he’s taking the time to tutor the computer club then the Principal says he is welcome!”

Interesting. It was a nice addition to the chatter Kouichi had picked up during school. His classmates didn’t care for him much, which suited Kouichi just fine honestly. He kept his head down, did his work, and listened. There had been a group at the front of the class snickering about Ken’s latest test scores.

\--“the boy genius is all washed up. He thought he could show us up? Pfft. It’s about time he flopped”—

He’d listened; interested in the background of the one he’d be staying with for the foreseeable future. Honestly? He didn’t believe a word of it. The smug, eloquent, snobbish star of the soccer AND computer team didn’t fit the sullen, withdrawn, but determined boy Kouichi had been observing. Either his classmates were deluded—and given the other student’s reactions in the hall, unlikely—or something major had happened just recently to knock Ken’s world upside down.

Kouichi wasn’t given too much time to think about it; Ken led the way to the computer lab with the ease of one who’d walked this path many times before. The students were still in their classrooms—Kouichi noticed a couple curious stares from the students closest to the door—but most of them appeared to be fixated on the clock, with the more studious still taking notes as the teacher’s voice droned on.

At last Ken stopped and moved to open the door. He paused, warily eyeing the light that was shining through the rectangular window. There didn’t appear to be anyone inside, so why was the light on? Eventually Ken shrugged and turned the handle, the door leaving its wooden frame with a quiet snick.

“Oh! Ichijouji!”

The call from the front of the room caught Ken like a startled deer. Kouichi tried to see around his companion, finding a tall, middle aged man striding down the aisle between the two halves of the room. Rows of computers were situated on each side, with about four or five placed along the thin tables. The man had been at the front, a stack of papers scattered liberally at the desk before the whiteboard.

“I see you’re still helping out the club. I can’t tell you how good it is to know that a good, upstanding young man like yourself is volunteering your time to tutor our computer club. They’re all good kids, but they can be rather distracted in class. Knowing they are in the care of someone as accomplished as yourself is a relief.” He clapped Ken on the shoulder good naturedly, before looking past him, blinking behind his thick glasses, “Say, who is this? Did you bring a friend this time?”

“Ah, yes.” Ken seemed to compose himself, and Kouichi had the weirdest feeling he was seeing himself when one of the teachers at his school suddenly pounced on him. It was so overwhelming, and then it all just clicked, the polite smile and language sliding in to place like a mask, “This is Kimura Kouji—one of the students from my school. He has volunteered to assist me for the time being.”

“It is wonderful to meet you, Kimura! I am the Physics Teacher, as well as staff advisor for the computer club—Fujiyama-sensei.”

Kouichi found himself the center of attention now. Having more time to prepare for it, he was able to slide his own mask on much quicker, bowing respectfully to the teacher. “It is an honor.”

“Oh don’t be like that.” The teacher waved off the formalities, “It is an honor for us that students from the esteemed Tamachi Academy are taking an interest in our school. Now don’t mind me, I was just doing some grading since I had a free period and it is much quieter in there. I’ll vacate the area before it is time for club to start.”

And he kept his word. Kouichi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding once the teacher had turned down his offer to help carry the stacks of homework, and managed to both juggle the papers and wave goodbye as he made his way whistling down the hall. Ken waited for a few moments before getting up and shutting the door. He let out a quiet sigh as he placed his bag on the table, opening it so Minomon could scamper out, “Alright. You can come out now.”

Kouichi quickly set his bag on the floor, unzipping it before Akemon could tear out of the thick fabric with his suddenly vigorous attempts to get out. The small, furred form of the digimon was panting heavily by the time he rolled out of the now widened opening—glad for the air and space and to be out of the confined space. Kouichi winced; he knew how much his brother hated that idea. He’d been counting the seconds as Fujiyama talked on and on while he packed up his things—it had taken much longer than he’d wanted. He snagged a chair sat down, waiting for Akemon to roll to his feet and begin to pace, working the kinks out of his limbs. That had to have been uncomfortable.

“Oh! You have a digimon!” A small piping voice came from the far edge of the room, drawing Kouichi’s attention to a large cabinet set against the wall. A blue blur came streaking out from underneath the shelf. The blur eventually resolved into a blue dino-type digimon, although it looked more like a dragon then a dino. A very, hyperactive dragon, it seemed as the digimon bounced onto Kouichi's lap, large expressive eyes staring up at the boy, "Is he your partner? What's your name? Where are you from? Do you have any food? Why aren’t you talking? Have you seen Daisuke? Why is he growling at me?”

“What’s your name?” The bouncing blue digimon was now peering down at Akemon who was indeed growling up at him. Ken, luckily, saved them from another myriad of questions by snatching him up off of Kouichi’s chair and depositing him on the desk a few feet away. The digimon hopped up and down in agitation, “But—but—he hasn't answered my questions!"

"He might, if you would stop talking long enough for him to answer." Kouichi recognized that dry, but peppered with sarcasm, voice. It came from above as Tailmon leaped gracefully from the rafters of the room to land lightly on the computer desk, "Besides, it is more polite for you to introduce yourself first."

"Sure thing Tailmon! Anything for you!” He puffed up with pride, beaming back at the exasperated cat digimon, “I’m Chibimon—Daisuke is my partner!”

Kouichi smiled weakly, dizzy from Chibimon's antics. He just wasn't used to dealing with hyperactive digimon. Even Takuya hadn’t ever been this bad; not even loaded up on sugar, and the rest of them carefully monitored his intake of that substance. "I'm…Kouji." He’d almost forgotten the changes in the names. He had mainly only talked to Akemon, and Ken and the teachers called him by his last name. It was easier that way. That had been Kouji’s plan, most likely, and Kouichi was grateful for it.

"Nice to meet’cha!” He bounced again. “Are you suuuuuure you haven’t seen Daisuke? He’s late! ”

Tailmon rolled her eyes and crossed the table to bop Chibimon on the head. The little blue dragon tumbled to the table protesting, “The bell hasn’t even rung yet.”

Just as she said that a high, shrill note went off over the loud speakers which sent Chibimon into fits of delight, “The bell! The bell!”

The cat digimon sent Kouichi a look of long suffering, before she grabbed the dancing blue digimon and dragged him to the other side of the table. She called down at Akemon, “You might want to move out of sight.”

No sooner had Akemon shifted under the cover of the table did the hall fill with people. The students, at long last released from their labors, flooded the corridors. Most went one way or another and the noise was muffled through the closed door. A couple peered curiously through the door’s window, but moved on. Apparently the computer club was a common enough sight.

A faint whine drifted up from under the table, and Kouichi nudged the now mostly empty dufflebag closer to the hiding digimon with his foot. Akemon stuffed his head back in gratefully, trying to block the noises and scents from coming through. Ken had thought to put some of his mother’s dried herbs and flowers into the bag, to soften the scents from the trip. Akemon didn’t seem to mind natural smells.

The door rattled, drawing his attention to it. He turned to the door, seeing the brown-haired girl from last night push her way through. It clicked shut behind her and she sighed heavily. She was wearing pink and white today, with what looked like a digital camera on a cord around her neck. Would those work in the Digital World? He wasn’t sure.

“’Kaaaaaaaaaaaari!” He ducked his head to avoid something whizzing overhead, the sound of the name and the beat of wings warning him of the oncoming projectile. The girl—Hikari? He wasn’t positive, he’d been distracted at the time—made an 'Oomph' sound as the orange blur collided with her, forcing her back a couple inches. She wrapped her arms around the digimon, its wing-like ears fluttering with the motion, "Is TK here yet? Where is Takeru?"

"He'll be here in a minute." She said soothingly, giggling. “I went on a head of the others.”

"Patamon?" Kouichi blinked, feeling a distinct sense of déjà vu as he recognized the small orange winged digimon. He shook his head, even as the use of his name caught Patamon’s attention. He squirmed around in Hikari’s hold, looking over his shoulder, “’Kari, who’s that?”

“His name’s Kouji. Where’s the rest of you?” She looked about the room, spotting Tailmon and Chibimon. Ken and Minomon were sitting apart from the little knot around Hikari, watching the clock quietly. The halls had emptied, and the others still hadn’t shown up.

“Sleeping like a cat on a windowsill.” Tailmon responded, “I’m surprised Chibimon didn’t wake them up.” She prodded the dragon digimon, who was glaring daggers at Patamon. The winged digimon didn’t seem to notice. A couple flaps of his wings had Patamon airborne and hovering curiously in front of Kouichi. Looking down into those big blue eyes kept reminding him uncomfortably of Bokomon’s “child”, even if he was lacking the large pink band he’d inherited from his mama-papamon. “Have we met?”

"No, it was another Patamon."

“Oh! I’ve never met another.—what was he like?” 

“He was very brave. Very brave, and very loyal. He saved all our lives.” It wasn’t Kouichi who answered. It came from beneath the table. Akemon staggered out. He looked ill. Kouichi wordlessly reached down and picked up his brother, placing the much smaller digimon on his lap. Kouji didn’t even argue. Obviously he remembered their conversation last night.

“You must be Akemon.” Patamon hovered lower and patted the digimon on the shoulder, sympathetic, “We’d hoped you’d feel better by today.” Akemon grumbled his thanks. Kouichi really hoped the others showed up soon so they could get into the digital world. His brother needed a break.

"That's no fair! You spoke to him but not to me?" Chibimon ducked out of Tailmon’s reach, scrabbling across the table and perching on the edge closest to the others. The glare the dragon digimon directed at Patamon intensified, if it were possible. It was one which should have sparked a fire and incinerated his target—if he hadn't been so small and cute that is. Patamon returned the glare with equal intensity; they must be rivals over something, but over what he couldn't tell.

"Oh cut it out you two." Tailmon cut in. The cat digimon parked herself next to Hikari—who had been watching the whole thing while trying to stifle her giggles—and rolled her eyes at the two, flicking her tail irritably, "You are acting like babies."

"Okay, Tailmon!" They both chorused at the same time, only to glare at each other directly afterwards. It wouldn’t have been as funny if Chibimon hadn’t been half Patamon’s size.

"They are worse than you and Takuya…" Kouichi muttered under his breath. He heard Akemon give a muffled snort in response. Kouichi couldn’t help prodding his brother’s side, earning an ear flick and a half-hearted swipe in return. That was a good sign. “At least we weren’t fighting over a girl.”

Kouichi caught an ear flick from Tailmon, and a startled look crossed her face. Kouichi didn’t bother fighting the smile, if his brother’s hearing was anything to go by; she had to have heard him. Any further comment on the juvenile behavior was derailed, however, as the door to the computer lab opened once again.

“Takeru!” Patamon cried, losing all interest in Chibimon; his wings beat the air rapidly as he propelled himself toward the person in the lead. He was about Hikari's height, with messy gold hair beneath a sand colored cap, and a face that smiled and laughed easily. He reminded Kouichi immediately of Tomoki with the hat, but the smile was all Takuya. The boy laughed, catching the digimon in his arms, "Patamon! How was your day?"

"Great!" The winged digimon chirped happily, "There was no class today, so we didn't have to hide the entire time." Catching Takeru's look he added, "We were careful! But then that teacher showed up and we had to scramble to hide, but Ken and Kouji showed up and got rid of him. Then Hikari came and now you’re here!"

"Mm-hm." Takeru replied skeptically before addressing Chibimon, "Daisuke and the others are right behind me.” The dragon broke out into another sequence of excited bouncing, running along the table and making a surprising leap across the aisle to the other side. The little party broken up, Takeru noticed Ken and Kouichi, “I see you guys made it okay. That’s quite a ways to travel right after school. My name is Takaishi Takeru and Patamon is my partner."

Kouichi tried to return the boy’s smile, but he was starting to feel uncomfortable. So many introductions, and there was still more to come, "Kimura Kouji and my…partner Akemon."

Any further conversation was cut off by a plethora of people trickling through the now open door. The leader was a boy who immediately reminded them of Takuya, right down to the goggles on his head. He had messy dark red-brown hair and dark brown, bordering on black eyes. Next to him was a girl, who was a little taller than her fellow. Her most distinguishing feature was her long purple hair—dyed? It had to be. Even in another world he didn’t think that color could be natural. She had large round glasses, which she paused briefly to adjust as she moved inside. Behind her was a smaller boy. He appeared to be a couple years younger with a short, neat, chocolate brown hair. 

"Daisuke! You’re late! Are we going? Huh? Are we, are we, are we!?" Chibimon launched himself at the boy in the lead—the one with the goggles—catching on to his shirt and scampering up to the shoulder. That, or in the arms seemed to be a good spot for the smaller digimon, Kouichi noticed, as two more digimon squeezed out from under the cabinet. A pink ball with wings and a little red feather on its back was rooming excitedly around the girl, and another ball, this one with yellow fur and feather-like extrusions was yawning sleepily, only to be gently picked up by the younger boy.

Goggle-head laughed loudly, "Of course Chibimon! We just had to wait for Taichi and the others.”

"Yay!"

Three more people filed in, two of which Kouichi recognized from the night before. It was Taichi and Izumi Koushirou. He hadn’t actually spoken to the red-head in whose apartment they had ended up in, but Ken had informed him after the fact. The last person was in the same uniform as the other two—it looked like a standard High School uniform, dark-green—but she was in a skirt rather than slacks. She was smiling fondly as she watched the antics between digimon and their chosen—this appeared to be par for the course, as strange as it felt to Kouichi.

Hikari and Taichi worked together to explain Kouichi’s presence to the others, so Takeru ended up doing the rest of the introductions. He moved to sit in the chair next to Kouichi, quietly pointing out the others, "This is the rest of our team. The one with the goggles is Motomiya Daisuke. The girl is Inoue Miyako, her partner is Poromon—he’s the pink one. That is Hida Iori and his partner Upamon. The others—" He indicated the three elder teens, who stood a little bit off to the side. They didn’t appear too interested in Taichi’s recount of their meeting the day before, perhaps he’d already told them? “Are Izumi Koushirou and Takenouchi Sora. Koushirou prefers to be called Izzy, though. They are some of the older Chosen. I think we are splitting up to look for the Crests today, so they decided to come along.” 

“Okay guys!” After some time, Taichi suddenly spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention. “Now, everyone got the email from Gennai right?” There was a round of affirmatives, “Good. We’re splitting into three groups today. Daisuke, Ken. You two are with me. We are going to check the Koromon Village. Takeru, ‘Kari, you two will be with Sora. Izzy will take Miyako and Iori—a”

Daisuke interrupted, “Hey! Why does TJ get to go with ‘Kari? I want to go with Kari!”

“Daisuke.” Taichi responded firmly, as Takeru flushed and Hikari giggled, “I’m sending ‘Kari with Sora for a reason. Sora’s Crest was found in an old base of Etamon’s, and Tailmon is the only champion digimon we have.”

“Then I’ll go instead of TA.” He crossed his arms stubbornly, “I’d need to be there to protect her.”

“Takeru’s crest was found in the same pyramid. He’s going with them.” Before Daisuke could protest again, Taichi headed him off, “I need you with me Daisuke. The digimon we’re looking for is a mega, and he was recently seen near the Koromon villiage. If he’s there, we could use your DNA evolutions as backup.”

Even as Daisuke tried to look sullen he seemed to puff up in importance at the special task he’d been given. “Fine. But if anything happens to ‘Kari…” He gave Takeru a threatening glare. The blonde gave him a smile and thumbs up, “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine with me.”

“You two nitwits like to forget that I’M the one who protects ‘Kari.” Tailmon said in a huff, to which Hikari responded by grabbing her unceremoniously into a hug with an exaggerated, “My hero!”

Everyone except Daisuke laughed at that. The goggle-head steamed, shooting daggers around the room, especially when he noticed even the new kid was laughing quietly. Even Akemon chuckled.

“Well, where’s the new kid going?” Daisuke hrmphed, crossing his arms, “Don’t tell me he gets to just sit around and have a tea party while the rest of us are busting our butts finding these crest things.”

Kouichi shifted uncomfortably now that the attention was back on him. He shrugged, “I’ll go wherever.”

“We could use another.” Izzy said thoughtfully, “I was thinking we could look for the cactus where we found Mimi’s, or the stadium for Jou. They were all in the desert, and with Halsemon and Kabuterimon we can cover a lot of distance. Does your digivolution have flight?”

Kouichi shrugged. He didn’t know. Izumi and Junpei were the only basic spirits with natural flight abilities. If their rookie forms were based off their spirits, it wasn’t looking likely for Anyamon’s evolution. If they could even figure out how to use natural evolution. 

“Hah!” Daisuke crowed, “You mean you can’t even digivolve? What use are you then?”

“Daisuke!” Hikari scolded him, aghast at his outburst. He looked a little sheepish when he noticed her expression but didn’t apologize. It was taking all of Kouichi’s willpower not to wilt under the weight of Daisuke’s unrepentant comment. He wasn’t a Chosen. He was a warrior, and he was banned from using Lowemon. What did that make him? 

Akemon had jumped to his feet and was growling at Daisuke, ears flat, teeth bared. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that.”

“And don’t you growl at Daisuke!” Chibimon puffed himself up on Daisuke’s shoulder, “C’mon Daisuke, let’s get to the Digital World! I’d like to see this puppy act so tough when I’m Veemon!”

“Both of you cut it out.” Taichi cut in. “Kouji’s here to help, Daisuke. And he’s coming with us. Izzy—” He ignored the younger teen’s sputtering, turning to the other. The rest of the Chosen had kept well out of the fight, broken up into their separate groups. “Could you set the gate for Sora’s group and ours?”

“Sure. I have the coordinates right here.” Izzy tapped his temple and moved in front of a specific computer. It took seconds to boot up, what appeared to be a window into a lush forest, a green light blinking in the corner of the screen. Kouichi stopped paying attention, deciding to ignore the Chosen as they chatted. Instead he ran his hand through Akemon’s fur, both taking comfort in his brother’s attempts at defense, and trying to calm the growls and tense muscles. At least once they got to the Digital World he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. Not in the same way. He felt kind of guilty at the thought that he wouldn’t be feeling so helpless anymore. It was selfish. He knew Kouji would chafe at both being on the sidelines, and being civil—especially if they were going to be traveling with Daisuke.

He just ignored everything, drawing back into that place he went so that he didn’t have to hear the snide remarks when he wore the same clothes twice in a row. So he didn’t hear the jealous mutters about his grades coupled with the insults to his shabby appearance. He remembered the rest of the warriors—being accepted as part of the group, even after the adventure was over, was a nice feeling. He remembered Kouji, coming over to help around the house, inviting him and his mom over for dinner, asking stiffly for some tutoring, when Kouichi knew his pride hated the idea of help…

After some time something touched him gently on the shoulder. He looked up to find Ken leaning over him. “It’s time.” 

Kouichi shook himself, nudging Akemon who jumped from his lap to the ground to allow him to stand up. Hikari’s group was gone already—when did they leave? Izzy was moving away from the computer, and the scene through the window had changed. It was now a tropical jungle, with small, rounded huts seen through the break in the trees. 

“Alrighty Izzy, keep in touch.” Taichi grinned and pulled out the small, squareish device Kouichi hadn’t gotten a good look at the last time he’d seen it. It wasn’t a true square, more as if it had inwardly curving corners. He assumed it was a digivice of sorts, Gennai had mentioned the Chosen had different models than they did. He cast back into his memory, trying to remember what they’d had to do to cross over from the other side. He honestly hadn’t been paying too much attention, his focus being drawn every which way by all the sights and smells of the digital world. They’d stopped in front of a…TV? He remembered that much. And then Taichi and Ken had pulled out these devices…and then light, and falling, and all of a sudden Anyamon was gone, leaving Kouichi bewildered and alone in his mind.

He couldn’t help himself—he was looking forward to being Anyamon again.

He fished his D-Scanner out of his jacket pocket, looking down at the digivice. It looked more similar to Ken or Daisuke’s digivices in design; although neither of theirs had the scanning port for the digicode. They probably didn’t need it.

The others were all facing the computer screen, digivices in their hands and waiting. Daisuke was standing closest to him, and the goggle-headed boy glanced to the side once, and then did a double take, “Hey, your digivice is different. It's black.”

No one really had much time to act on his comment because Ken pointed his device at the computer screen, "Digital Gate, Open!"

x-x-x

The first thing Kouji felt was relief as the world materialized around him. He’d felt an unknown pressure lifting as they spun through the gateway, the presence of Akemon’s mind retreating as the door revolved and the lock clicked, leaving him as human again. He managed to land on his feet this time, even with the disorientation from going from four legs to only two. Only Taichi, Ken and Daisuke were scattered around, the others weren’t coming. 

Daisuke. Kouji’s expression hardened as he fought back a scowl. He did not like the Chosen. The reddish-brown haired teen was still decently close, but Taichi quickly pulled him away, talking to him in low, but sharp tones. Kouji didn’t try to stop it as his lips pulled into a grim smile. It served him right. 

Instead, he ignored the others for the moment. He used the time to stretch his arms, and tracked down his brother. Anyamon had ended up a little ways away, and he was working on getting the kinks out of his movements. It took him even less time than yesterday and soon Anyamon was moving without any awkwardness. Anyamon shook himself as Kouji approached, “How’re you feeling?”

“Much better.” Came the rumbled response. The great cat closed his eyes and breathed, Kouji immediately knew he was testing the air, cataloguing the scents in the immediate vicinity. Even thinking about that action had him feeling queasy. He retained little more than lingering after effects from his time as Akemon, but he was not looking forward to returning to the Human world. Tailmon said it would get easier—and it had. But it was slow going. 

“Hey, Kouji.” Both human and digimon turned at the reluctant voice. Daisuke was walking toward them, a larger blue dragon digimon at his side. The Chosen had his hands stuffed sullenly into his pockets, and he refused to look at them. Taichi was watching him closely. Kouji gave the barest hint of a scowl before he blanked his expression. There wasn’t even the pretense of warmth in his voice as he acknowledged, “Daisuke.”

“Look, we got off on the wrong foot. Everyone’s been talking about you and the Crests all day and…well. I got salty. Let’s try and start over, okay?”

Kouji eyed the brunette warily, was he doing this because he was truly sorry? Or just because he got told off? Given the lack of actual apology in there Kouji was willing to bet the latter. Fine. They could start over. That didn’t mean Kouji had to like him. “Fine.” He took the proffered hand shake, even if his grip was tighter than normal.

Meanwhile, the digimon were having a similar confrontation. Anyamon watched as the blue digimon broke away from his partner, creeping warily toward that great cat. “Still want that fight?”

“Uh, nope. Wow. You’ve sure gotten big.” Anyamon was a head taller than him, “You sure you’re a rookie?” 

Anyamon shrugged. The dragon shifted uncomfortably before he suddenly stuck out a clawed hand as a peace offering, “Look, let’s let bygones be bygones. You don’t growl at my partner, I won’t growl at yours. No hard feelings?”

Anyamon shifted to his haunches, lifting his front paw to place it in the other digimon’s claws. The digimon brightened exponentially, getting a little of his Chibimon bounce back, “Great! I’m sure we’ll be great friends. My name is Veemon, but you can call me Veemon. What’s yours now?”

“Anyamon.”

“Weeeell, Anyamon, old buddy, old pal.” Veemon attempted to sling an arm over the big cat’s neck, but just patted him on the neck when he realized he couldn’t reach, “I think we’ll get along swell.”


	7. What makes the dawn come up like thunder?

Taichi sighed—why did he have to have the quiet group? Oh, Veemon and Davis were noisy enough, talking loudly amongst themselves and occasionally throwing Taichi a bone, but the other half of the party was too quiet. Ken, who didn’t talk much on a good day, was rather distant. Taichi wondered what he was brooding on now, but really it was the last member of the group who was killing the mood. Kouji was downright frosty. Taichi had hoped the kid had unwound since they first met, given what he’d heard from Hikari’s description, Ken’s emails, and what he’d observed in the computer lab. It seemed like he had become more like Ken, reserved, but friendly enough. Then Daisuke had to go put his foot in it.

Taichi knew the type. Kouji reminded him a lot of how Yamato used to be, all ice and hard edges. Yamato had Takeru to protect; to give him a softer interior. At least he and Yamato grown out of it. Kouji definitely kept a grudge, and Daisuke’s injured pride hadn’t helped his apology. Taichi hated usurping the new kid’s status as leader of the New Chosen, but the Crests were a relic from _his_ era. He usually let Daisuke take point, but not this time.

He knew that, even if he couldn’t digivolve, the new kid had something else up his sleeve. Gennai had said as much. Something that wasn’t digivolution, because digivolution might not work. That idea left his shuddering. Digivolution was one of the core concepts behind digimon. What would happen when you took it away?

He shook the thoughts away, brightening as he spotted a very familiar blotch of yellow among the pink blob of bouncing Koromon that were gathering at the edge of the village. He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, “Agumon!”

“Taaaaaai!” The dinosaur digimon waved back, but didn’t rush to meet them. He didn’t leave the knot of Koromon, and as soon as Taichi got closer he realized why. They looked…frightened. They were huddled together and around Agumon, as if…they took comfort in him.

“What’s going on buddy?” Taichi tried to ignore the way the Koromon flinched away from their little ragtag group. Especially—now this he did _not_ ignore—from Kouji and Anyamon. Some of the chill had ebbed out of the teen’s face, and he was now pale, staring out over the frightened digimon and what had once been a quaint little village. The largest building—the one with the hotsprings and the little amphitheater where the Pagumon had performed for them—was in ruins. It was the only thing that had been touched, but the village felt incomplete. Damaged.

“They can’t tell me.” Agumon responded sadly, dropping his arm to rest his claws gently against some of the Koromon. He whispered to them and then carefully pried them off, moving out from within them. They huddled together, “Don’t worry. We’ll fix everything. I promise.”

The words didn’t seem to help. Agumon shot Taichi a pleading look, and Taichi found himself unable to do anything to help. Instead he waved Agumon further away from the village, hoping the distance would calm the Koromon. “What happened here?”

“I got here last night, so I don’t really know.” Agumon rubbed his claw against his head, “Gennai sent me out after you guys left, and I found them like that. They latched on to me. The…Mega as they call him really terrified him. They said he doesn’t exist.” He lowered his voice, so only Taichi could hear, “They said the same as you guys approached.”

Didn’t exist…Taichi thought back to Izzy’s words. ‘ _That digimon doesn’t exist.’_

“Is it Anyamon?” He asked just as quietly. Agumon shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t recognize him, that’s for sure. We hardly ever run into a digimon I don’t _know_ about.”

The others had caught up with him, and Taichi recounted that the Koromon were afraid of this ‘Mega’. He didn’t mention his suspicion, and stayed quiet when Daisuke started belligerently asking questions, “How long ago was this? Where did this guy go? None of them managed to even catch a glimpse of him? How the heck do they know he’s a Mega then?”

“We can feel it, Daisuke.” Veemon answered the last question, “Just like I know Anyamon is not a champion, even if he’s reaaally big.” He gave Anyamon a crooked grin, “The greater the power, the more it affects us. The more we can feel it. It always affects the weaker levels more. Of course, I’m not weak.” Veemon puffed out his chest. Daisuke looked thoughtful, “So it’s like a spidey-sense?”

“Yep!” Then Veemon paused, “…what’s a spidey-sense?”

“Nevermind.”

“They said he went to the waterfall. Where the Pagumon had us trapped. All they saw was a bright golden light, and then the main hall exploded, before it shot off toward the waterfall.” Agumon pointed off toward the distance, where Taichi felt like he could almost see the mist rising from above the forest.

“Well. We might as well go there.” Taichi said with a sigh, “Unless there’s anything in the village?”

Agumon shook his head. With that they set off, following the track they’d find the trapped Koromon all those years before. Taichi, tired of the quiet, decided to regal a rapt Daisuke—and by proxy, the two quiet teens—with the story of how the Original Chosen had first found a Village of Pagumon where there should have been Koromon. He was just telling them about how they’d all been trapped behind the waterfall by Etamon when the trees suddenly disappeared. Taichi almost stumbled in surprise; he hadn’t heard the roar of the waterfall. The solid curtain of rushing water was _gone._ Taichi knew Etamon had messed up the entrance when he’d sealed them inside, but _this_? Huge chunks of stone were thrown every which way; the flow of the river was split into a ton of little streams, all flowing sadly around and over strewn boulders. The cave that had once been hidden behind the picturesque waterfall gaped open like a weeping wound.

Taichi felt sick. Agumon’s gasp wasn’t reassuring. The dinosaur’s clawed hand was attempting to cover his gaping mouth, “It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“You said there was a cave in, correct?” Ken asked, coming up to the edge of the deformed lake to study the wreckage. Taichi nodded dumbly, unable to speak coherently as he tried to reconcile his memories with the reality before him.

“Looks more like an explosion to me.” Daisuke kicked at a rock the size of his fist, sending it flying into the lake. It collided with the water with a heavy plop, throwing up a small sheet of water before sinking out of sight. Kouji snorted, “Observant, aren’t you?”

“Thanks!” Daisuke preened, but quieted at Ken’s glance. The genius carefully picked his way toward the opening, eyeing the fallen rocks surrounding it. Wormmon struggled to keep up with him, little legs working furiously. The digimon stopped, having seen something, “Oh, this is a pretty stone…oh. It’s sharp.”

The Chosen picked up the shard Wormmon had dropped in alarm, studying it. Taichi didn’t see what was so special about it. It was just a shard of exploded rock. Kouji didn’t join Ken in the studying; instead he found a large pile of rocks to stand nearby, putting his back to the stone. Taichi realized with some alarm that he was standing watch, scanning the area carefully, his hand casually on his digivice. None of the other Chosen ever acted like that, not even back when the Dark Master’s minions were stalking them, or when the Digimon Kaiser’s was in the midst of his rampage. They’d been able to trust in each other. In their digimon.

It really made Taichi wonder about that kid.

Ken spoke up, “This mess is new.” He indicated the rubble, “It isn’t a result of Etamon’s attack. It’s more recent. The water hasn’t had time to smooth away the jagged edges.” He indicated where the rock had split and sundered.

“But the other side is smooth.” Daisuke pointed out. He’d sat down and was trying to teach Veemon to skip stones, to limited success.

“Well yes. That side was on the outside of the pile; the water wore it away over the years since the cave in. “

“Oh! It must have been near the bump.” Taichi turned to Agumon, “Bump? What bump?”

“Well, you see, I have revisited the Koromon Village a lot since…you guys left. Had to help them rebuild, you know? I always thought the waterfall looked bumpy. It used to be straight, right? Well, it changed afterwards, the water falls, and then flows off at an angle, like this.” Agumon made an angle with his hands, “I always wondered what caused it, but there were too many rocks in the way.”

“It was the rocks that changed the shape; but someone decided to blow it up.” Ken tossed the stone away, carelessly. Wormmon caught it, juggling it awkwardly between his front legs. “Was there anything else behind the waterfall other than the trapped Koromon?”

“Yeah, I never got to that part. The back wall of the cave had the Crest of Courage on it. When I got it, the wall disappeared and led us to a desert that was far further inland.” And he didn’t want to think about how far. He remembered Izzy’s map. They hadn’t walked anywhere near long enough to cover that sort of ground.

“I think we have the proof that this…digimon…was at least interested in the Crest. There is enough rock debris to have required significant force to create this type of opening.” Ken now stood on the edge, balancing on the raised rock lip above the shallow pool of water. He peered inside, “Agumon, we might need you to make some torches.”

As much as Taichi didn’t like the idea, there was only way left to go, “It’s time to go spelunking!”

x-x-x

Kouji didn’t like this. He wasn’t…afraid of the dark. He just…didn’t like it. The torch burning in his hand seemed feeble in the darkness of the tunnel. The floor was damp, and got drier and drier the further in they went, thankfully. Whatever had destroyed the debris blocking the entrance had also created a depression on the floor, so most of the water pooled there. Kouji glanced behind, at the pinprick of light that was the entrance. It was so far back now, and they hadn’t even walked very long.

Ken, Taichi, and Daisuke all moved together in a group, their digimon sticking close to their sides. Kouji had pulled ahead, he wasn’t completely comfortable with them at his back, but he at least trusted Ken to an extent. Besides, he would rather not be a single blob of target for anything that might come down the tunnel.

He turned back to the front, wishing Daisuke would complain a little more quietly about the fact that he’d gotten his socks wet. The loud voices bounced against the stone, so loud that Kouji had almost missed the faint scuffle of rock that indicated Anyamon’s return. The big cat melted out of the darkness, the torchlight giving his golden eyes an otherworldly glow. He’d gone on ahead, scouting the way since he was the only one with competent low-light vision. Indeed, the torchlight made him blink a little, and he soon put his back to it and stared out into the darkness again.

“There are no side passages.” Anyamon reported, “It’s a straight shot for a ways, but then it hits a wall. There’s…well. Just be careful, and stop when I do.”

“Oi! Kouji!” The call came from behind. It was Taichi who jogged up to meet them. Kouji slowed, letting Anyamon pull ahead a little. “What is it?”

“What did Anyamon say?” Kouji relayed the report, and Taichi mulled it over.

“We’ve walked longer than the last time—and he says it’s a dead end?”

“Not dead.” Anyamon’s voice drifted out of the darkness, he wasn’t even a silhouette anymore. Kouji smirked when Taichi nearly jumped; Kouichi _was_ the Warrior of Darkness, after all. The dark was his element. “There’s been a hole blown into the floor, so watch your step.”

They caught up to him quickly enough. Anyamon sat on the edge of a yawning black pit, tail flicking nervously, and gold eyes glowing as he watched them approach. Daisuke pushed forward, peering over the edge even as Taichi snapped at him to be careful. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on jumping in.” Veemon soon joined him. “Hey, Daisuke, how far down do you think it is?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

Ken ignored the two, kneeling down to the stone floor to collect a small rock. He weighed it carefully in his hand and then snapped, “Be quiet.”

The voices died, and Ken moved to the edge of the pit. He tossed the stone into the darkness, waiting patiently, intently until there was a faint ‘sploosh’ of rock hitting water from far below. After a few moments, Ken nodded, “It is about a fifteen foot drop. I would not recommend jumping. There is water, but we don’t know how deep it is.”

The dark haired Chosen began to pace, “If Iori were here Digmon could just tunnel down” Ken muttered, and Kouji realized he was trying to figure out a way around the drop. He frowned, “How do we know we even need to go down there?”

Ken waved his hand distractedly at the wall behind the pit. Kouji held his torch out, squinting at the lines carved into the stone. He hadn’t noticed that they made a pattern before. They weren’t very thick, but…they were beginning to look like a star? No, there were too many points. A sun perhaps?

“It’s the crest of courage.” Taichi said with finality, he stared uneasily down into the pit, “If this is the only way to go, we need to get down there somehow.”

“Veemon or Wormmon could digivolve!” Daisuke suggested, “It’s a little cramped in the tunnel, but they should be able to if they jump first, _then_ digivolve. They could then fly us down.”

“It’s such a waste.” Ken muttered, “They’d have to dedigivolve right away unless the tunnel is much larger down there.”

“If we head back to the jungle, we could find vines to make a rope?” Kouji added, doubtfully. It would take them an hour or so to walk back to the waterfall, and then another hour to get back here. But then that wouldn’t work completely, Anyamon wouldn’t be able to climb down a rope.

“I could use my Sticky Net?” Wormmon suggested cautiously, scurrying to the edge, “It’s really strong…And once down I could create a net for you to jump into.”

“That is probably our best bet. But make a rope for us to climb down, and then a series of nets for Anyamon. Digimon can survive large drops easier than we can, but there’s no reason to risk it.” With Ken’s blessing on the plan, Wormmon set to work. Kouji watched with interest as the bug-type digimon began to spin his web as if he were a spider, and not a worm. Digimon were really odd creatures. Some of them were obviously based off of real animals, some were just weird (such as Candlemon), and others looked like they should make sense, and then they would surprise you.

Soon there was a white ladder attached tightly to an outcropping of stone, barely visible against the stone. It looked almost red in the firelight. Kouji eyed his troch before grinding the lit end into the floor, sending sparks and embers flying as he tried to smother the flames. Daisuke didn’t appreciate very much, and Kouji had to hide a satisfied smirk as the boy was sent dancing to avoid the sparks, “Hey! Watch where you throw the fire! What are you doing?”

“I don’t plan on shimmying down that with a lit torch in my hands.” It was obvious. Fire plus possibly flammable material was not a good idea. Now there was only Taichi’s torch remaining. Ken had taken point, and Taichi had taken the rear. They hadn’t needed more than that. The dark was more oppressive now; Taichi’s torch seemed a weak barrier against it.

“Wise.” Ken stood by the top of the ladder, watching Wormmon as he began to create the pit wide nets that would serve to cushion Anyamon’s jump. Since he wasn’t a spider, Wormmon’s webs did not resemble picturesque, neat spiderwebs. They were just strings of webbing overlaid one on top of each other, but, it should hold well enough. “Taichi, you will have to do the same, but I would suggest waiting until we’ve all gone down. If Agumon follows Kouji we can relight his torch once we reach the bottom.”

And the plan was decided. Kouji was the first down the ladder. Like its name, it _was_ sticky. It took far more effort than it should have to tear his hands off the rungs, but he was grateful for the support once he’d moved out of range of Taichi’s torch and had to make his way by touch rather than sight. He could hear the sound of dripping water over his own breath and beating heart, but he could see nothing. If he craned his neck, Taichi’s torch was a spot above, but around him was nothing. The ladder before him was a barely discernible silhouette that shook with each movement of the others above him.

He didn’t like the dark.

After what seemed like forever, he felt water seeping into his shoes as he searched for the next rung of the ladder. Now the question was how deep was it? Hesitantly he moved, searching, searching for solid stone beneath his completely soaked feet—THERE!

With a relief, Kouji tore himself off the ladder, staggering to his feet in the cold water. It came up to his knees, but he’d managed to keep the torch dry, so that was a plus. There was a loud sploosh of something hitting the water beside him, kicking up small waves that lapped away at the rapidly shrinking dry spots on his clothes.

There were bubbles, and then an uncomfortable groan as Agumon pushed himself out of the water where he’d fallen. Kouji fumbled for the dinosaur digimon, helping him to his feet and passing the slightly damp wood into his claws. There was a sharp inhale, and then a quiet “ _Baby Flame!”_ before the area suddenly burst into life, the small fireball catching on to the dry end of the stick. Kouji looked up and up, seeing the line of children and digimon making their way carefully down the ladder. Taichi’s flame was still going. He would keep it until Anyamon got down. They didn’t want to test his eyesight in complete darkness.

And then it went out. It was agonizing minutes before there was another splash, this one louder as Anyamon plunged from the lowest set of nets into the water below. Kouji scrambled toward his brother, leaving the torch in a bewildered Agumon’s hands.

“Are you okay!?” He hissed, as quietly as he could as the now soaked digimon began to try and shake all the water out of thick black fur. A blot of green against black—Wormmon—clung to the cat’s back. The bug-type digimon was carefully cutting the last strands of webbing that were clinging to Anyamon’s fur, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Those pale gold eyes turned to him, reflecting the torches’ pale glow, “I _never_ want to do that again.”

x-x-x

Daisuke grumbled as he trudged along in soaked shoes. It had been bad enough when they’d first entered the cave—his socks had only gotten a little damp. Now. Now they were soaked all the way through to the sole, and he could literally hear them sloshing as he walked. Stupid water. Stupid cave. At least the water had only been at the bottom of the shaft, and the rest of the passage was dry. Not that it helped much. He was _cold_. Heck, most of his complaints were an attempt to hide the fact that his teeth would be chattering otherwise.

Even his normally cozy jacket failed him, it having gotten wet in the fall. Honestly, why would the Crest of Courage be in such a dark and clammy, _wet_ place anyway? He might not be Izzy or Ken, but he did happen to notice that the Crest of Courage generally had something to do with _fire_. Agumon, Flamedramon…really, it wasn’t that hard to notice.

He jumped as something brushed passed him, turning to see Anyamon’s inky black form stalking back to where Kouji was bringing up the rear of their group. That cat gave him the creeps. He hadn’t seen a thing until the digimon touched him. Daisuke discretely rubbed his arms, turning the motion into an exaggerated hand motion as Veemon asked what was wrong. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong!” He laughed, “I was just…just…stretching my arms.”

Veemon eyed him, before accepting the answer. Or accepting that the answer was all Daisuke was willing to give. He could never tell with Veemon. “You know.” Daisuke spoke up, grabbing the attention of Ken and Taichi ahead of him, “Have either of you heard from the others? I wonder if they are having any better luck.”

“It’s been almost three hours.” Ken added dubiously, checking the time on his D-3. “I would expect a token report by now, at least.”

“Hold this so I can check.” Taichi passed the torch to Daisuke, the whole group slowing to a stop as he pulled his D-Terminal out of his coat. Daisuke stretched to see if he could see over Taichi’s shoulder, but it wasn’t necessary. The older kid only shut it with a snap and shook his head, “No good. There’s no signal down here.”

“Well, that sucks.”

They started walking again. Daisuke didn’t really like walking. At least every other time he’d had to walk so much in the Digital World there had been something interesting to see. Down here it was just darkness and stone. Granted the rough stone walls of the tunnel behind the waterfall had given way to moss-covered grey brick, but it was still stone. The brick was heartening; it meant _someone_ had been down here at some point to carve it out.

Well, not necessarily. They’d seen some really weird stuff in the digital world. He wouldn’t be surprised if things just spontaneously appeared fully built. It definitely looked old.

A beep sounded from behind him, echoing in the stone hall. Then it happened. Again. And again. And again. “Darn it Kouji, turn that thing off!” Daisuke whirled around to glare at the new guy—he was the only one behind him—and then just stared as he realized Kouji had his digivice out. A little green ball hovered above the glowing screen, a blinking yellow light pointing straight ahead.

“Wait a second.” The kid’s digivice had been _black._ Like all black and grey. Just like Ken’s. Now that was definitely _not_ black. “Your D-3 is blue now!”

Kouji gave him one of those infuriating looks, “It was always like this.”

“No it wasn’t! I saw it! It was _black._ Black and Grey! Like Ken’s! _”_

“It was black and blue yesterday.” Ken shrugged, more interested in the projection from the digivice, “I noticed your D-3 as different from ours. We don’t have this type of function—it appears to be a sort of compass?”

“It’s called a D-Scanner.” Kouji was ignoring him in that way that meant he wanted him to know he was ignoring him. Daisuke was fuming. He _knew_ it had been different before they entered the Digital World. That meant something, he _knew_ it. The Digivices didn’t change—except for ‘Kari and TS, but ‘Kari was special and TJ was her tagalong. “We used them to track down…ancient digital artifacts.”

“Strange it would activate here…We don’t have signal…” Ken was muttering to himself again, “But if it’s picking up something down here it must be nearby. The Crests might be on the same frequency—did these artifacts have something to with digivolution?”

Daisuke didn’t miss the intentionally blank look that flashed across the new kid’s face. Hah. ‘ _Can’t digivolve my foot.’_ He was definitely hiding something from them. “I believe so. They were being collected by evil digimon who wished to use their power.”

“It is a shame we do not have the physical digimentals anymore. It might be an interesting experiment…” Ken shook his head, “Anyway, we might as well follow it.”

Kouji was quickly kicked to the front of the pack, his weird magically glowing green orb pointing the way. Not that there was much of a way to point, Daisuke thought sourly, glaring at Kouji’s back. Taichi had switched with the new kid and taken the second torch to the back of their group, leaving Daisuke alone to stew. Ken seemed to be becoming rather chummy with the new kid, in his reserved way anyway, in order to study the new digivice.

Why did the new kid get the fancy toy anyway? He ignored the logical part of his mind that pointed out that his own digivice was different from the original Chosen—he wanted an excuse to be mad at the new kid. He’d been all Hikari would talk about. About his Digimon, about Taichi’s meeting him, about running into him in the park. Honestly, Daisuke didn’t have much respect for a guy who lost his digimon like that. Akemon had looked terrible in the computer lab. Daisuke didn’t buy the sob story Kouji had fed Hikari; no way was that beast of a cat “newly evolved and vulnerable”. He would have worried it was another Wormmon all over again, neglected and abused, but he _knew_ Ken wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Besides, it was bad enough that he had competition in TA; he didn’t need the new kid winning his Hikari over with that damned cool attitude. It reminded him uncomfortably of Yamato, and he was well aware of how crazy his sister was for Takeru’s brother. Girls apparently liked that sort of thing. He personally thought it was annoying.

Suddenly Kouji stopped, and Daisuke had to do a little jig to avoid running into the new kid. In the end he’d ended up beside him, staring down into yet another deep dark pit in the center of the passage. “Not _again_.”

“It’s coming from down there.” Kouji reported, showing the blinking compass mark which had shifted to the bottom of the orb. Ken repeated that nifty stone trick he’d tried earlier, but try as they might they couldn’t hear a resulting plop, splash, or even a thud. Not even when Ken found progressively larger stones to try and make a louder sound. After an indeterminable amount of time listening, Ken shook his head, rising from his kneeling place at the edge of the pit, “Nothing. It’s too deep to hear. This one isn’t blasted either, not like the earlier one.”

“How can you tell?” Taichi had moved forward; bring his torch to add its meager light to the party. Daisuke was honestly surprised they hadn’t burned to a crisp yet. He’d tried to gather more sticks, but Agumon had said the two would be enough. Maybe it was another weird Digital World thing. Ever burning sticks.

“It’s smooth.” Kouji was the one to reply, “The earlier had a lot of craggy and protruding rocks.”

So like the waterfall earlier. Huh. “So now what?”

“We could throw a torch down? The light would show us something.” Taichi’s suggestion. Daisuke didn’t like throwing one of their _two_ torches away, but he supposed they could always break the wood to make more. Especially if they were magic.

Ken shook his head, “If we didn’t hear the large stone, I doubt the fire would survive the fall.”

Movement from the corner of his eye had Daisuke shuddering. That blasted cat. How he could miss it in the full torchlight Daisuke had no idea. The only thing that had tipped him off had been the patch of green riding on Anyamon’s back. Anyamon had offered to keep carrying Wormmon, after Ken’s digimon had worn himself out spinning all those webs.

“Daisuke! Look at this!” Veemon was soon standing beside the other digimon, waving his clawed hand excitedly in their direction. Anyamon had crept around the pit, and Veemon had followed like the curious little bugger he was. The blue dragon digimon dug his claws into something on the wall and _pulled._ There was the screeching sound of metal against metal, and then a snap. To Daisuke’s horror, the force of the release sent Veemon sprawling backwards, straight for the pit, “Veemon!”

“Sticky Net!” Wormmon’s tired voice rang out, the sticky webbing darting outward toward the falling digimon. It stuck. Veemon’s flight hesitated for a moment, before he continued plummeting, gripping onto the thing he’d ripped out of the wall tightly. Wormmon was yanked off of Anyamon’s back by the force, and the cat lunged after the two instinctively, trying to bite at the flailing webbing Wormmon was trying to shoot everywhere. Teeth closed on the only string thick enough not to be cut immediately, but he was teetering precariously on the edge, the weight of the three digimon causing the cat’s muscles to quiver with the strain. He was big, but not _that_ big.

The humans had enough time to take all this in during the first few moments, but none of them thought at all as they ran to Anyamon. Daisuke and Taichi tossed the torches to the ground, and all of them latched onto the black panther, doing their best to ground him. “Hold on!” Daisuke yelled at the cat, who—despite all their efforts—was starting to lean forward. Daisuke could hear Veemon yelling from waay too far down into the pit, but he couldn’t understand a word of it

“Don’t worry buddy!” He carelessly moved toward the edge, reaching for the sticky web that was stretched far too thin. He caught it, just ahead of Anyamon’s fangs, “Guys! Help me pull them up!”

Taichi and Agumon immediately ran to help, but none of them reacted in time to Ken’s warning. Daisuke felt his frantically beating heart sink into his stomach at the obnoxiously loud sound of splintering stone.

Then the ground moved, and he was _falling._

The sputtering light of the dying torches, left forgotten on the cold stone floor, sank into darkness.


	8. Of Faith and Betrayal

“ _Veeeeeemon! Digivooooolve!”_

Daisuke was yelling. Unfortunetly, his yelling was being blown back up by the speed of his falling, not down toward Veemon. Kouji clutched onto Anyamon’s neck, trying to think of something, anything. Neither of his spirits could fly. The best bet he had was his hyper evolution, but that required the _other spirits_. Dammit.

He couldn’t see _anything._ The other Chosen were just sounds on the wind. Rather loud panicky sounds, but nothing more. He couldn’t tell where they were other than somewhere below him.

And then…there was light. Digicode snaked its way around Anyamon, surrounding them both. He got a brief glimpse of a slim body falling below them. Ken. The others had all run to the edge, and had thus been the first to fall. Then his view was blocked.

_‘Slide Evolution!’_

_What was Kouichi doing?_ He didn’t even think Lowemon would be able to survive a fall of this magnitude. The air was charged inside the cocoon of frenzied data, humming with energy. Kouji could see nothing but the blue and white particles. The energy thrummed around him, his D-Scanner began to beep wildly. The sheer amount of energy was calling to his own spirits, a call to battle to awaken old soldiers.

And then what had been fur hardened into cool metal, the cocoon bursting in a blinding flash of light in the darkness, before it was swallowed up.

He heard the whirring sound of jets, and their fall slowed. It clicked. _‘KaiserLowemon!’_ Kouichi’s beast spirit had limited thruster capabilities, mainly for added boost to jumps or speed. But if you angle them the right way, you could use them to slow a descent! “You. Are a genius.”

He was now seated comfortably on KaiserLowemon’s back, hands grasping the metal of his black and gold mane. He wasn’t sure that he’d been heard over the rush of the air, they were still falling, just not quite as fast, but KaiserLowemon made a rumbling noise, “Hold on. We are going to have to drop if I’m going to reach the others.”

Kouji thought about telling him to stop, but it was only an instant. If the others hit the ground from that height, they would _die_. Even if it was water. He reaffirmed his grip. He couldn’t see, but he felt safe enough, wedged in between the hard metal jutting out from KaiserLowemon’s back.

Then the rush began. The sound of the thrusters died, and they dropped like a stone. It wouldn’t be fast enough, but then Kouji heard the thrusters start again and they shot forward, down, down. He couldn’t do anything but hold on. Hold on, and pray.

\--

The next thing Kouichi was aware of was that he was indeed Kouichi again. The Warrior of Darkness jumped in surprise, before he realized that he couldn’t _actually_ jump. He felt…light. Drifting. The world around him was dark, but he could _see._ He could see the impossibility of dark purple against black, swirling clouds in this place with no light. None save for the faint glow coming from himself.

He had seen this place before, and it was a place of nightmares. He’d been tossed deep, deep into his Spirit, to the point where he couldn’t even perceive the outside world. Dark bits of digital code spun around him—that was the source of the glow—and Kouichi had to stop himself from panicking, expecting at any moment to see Duskmon appear from that wasteland of black and purple.

He forced himself to keep calm. Was he dead? Last time he’d been in this place aside from his nightmares was shortly after they’d saved the Digital World, in those agonizing moments when his soul was left bodiless, Lowemon had deserted him and with him the anchor Kouichi’d had on the Digital World.

This shouldn’t be possible. He _wasn’t_ a dying teenager, who’s soul had been pulled into the Digital World by Cherubimon’s machinations. He’d crossed the gate for real this time, body and soul, like the others.

He wasn’t alone either. Looming in the darkness around him were the comfortable presences of his Spirits. Lowemon’s statue rested to his right, KaiserLowemon to his left. They were still here. Relief washed through him suddenly, startling him with its intensity.

But if they were here, then why was he? They’d been falling, he remembered, and he’d evolved. He hadn’t been thinking, hadn’t even thought about Kaiser Lowemon’s jumpjets, but he’d known that he couldn’t let the others down, not so long as he could _try_. Then…it had just happened. He’d known exactly what to do. A small push toward the wall, line up a dive, and then jump. He’d been close enough to Ken to reach out a metal paw, _sure_ that he could at least save this one, when there’d been an explosion of red light…

A red light that was growing again. It melted out of the darkness, nearly blinding him as a symbol etched itself into the empty space before him. Fiery red-orange lines formed a sun relief in the air, which slowly began to rotate, throwing sparks as it did so.

_‘You, who risked your secret to save another…have the courage to face that which you fear.’_

And then the light died. Swallowed by roiling clouds of Darkness. Kouichi felt a shiver run through his body, and he was overwhelmed by a yawning pit of dread. He knew what he feared. He also knew that it would be _impossible_ for it to happen. The corruption had been removed, and Lowemon had been born. There was _nothing_ left of Duskmon. Nothing.

He glanced toward Lowemon’s spirit relief, only to stop dead. Five red eyes stared back at him, hovering above them all were two black dragon skulls, grinning at him.

 _Nonononono…_ He whirled around, afraid of what he would find on his left. His dread became real in red and black feathers as he watched KaiserLowemon twist and warp into Velgmon. The empty eye sockets glared down at him, hatefully.

_Please no…_

“ _Slide evolution…”_ The words echoed. That was KaiserLowemon. Kouichi reached for it, trying to grasp on to the warm comforting darkness, trying to grab on to the purity, even as corruption was eating through it. He tried to cancel the evolution— _anything_.

The code surrounding him began to whirl; gone was the benign blue and white of an active digivolution. It was an angry black and red, spiraling around and around as it sought to engulf him in a cocoon that would warp and shape his soul even as he saw it happen to KaiserLowemon’s statue. He sought to struggle, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t see anything in the chaotic mass. His limbs were trapped, cold armor—he knew it was darkened _bone—_ coalescing out of the whirling data particles. He couldn’t breathe as the mask settled over his face, blond hair streaming down around his face, falling free from the grotesque visage.

Suddenly he could _see_. It was overwhelming as seven more sets of eyes opened; seven new sources of input that he had no idea how to translate into a cohesive picture.

But Duskmon knew. Kouichi could feel the alien—but far too familiar and he hated that it _was—_ chill settle into the cracks and spaces that KaiserLowemon had been. He shuddered, a wordless cry tearing free and echoing through the empty space. He pushed bone into his face, ignoring how the dragon fangs of his gauntlets dug into the exposed skin. He didn’t want to see. The skulls may block _his eyes,_ but the seven continued to stare, unrelenting against his desire.

‘ _We. Are. One.’_

And Duskmon came crashing down on him, smothering him, threatening to _consume_ him the way Cherubimon’s corruption once had. But he wasn’t the terrified dying teenager who would so easily succumb to evil’s sweet lies. Not anymore.

He fought back with all his strength. His will. He would _not_ let Duskmon win. He didn’t care about the mission. He didn’t care about secrecy.

He needed to de-digivolve.

He needed to return to being human.

After that…he would think of something. He could have Kouji scan the spirits again, take them _away._ He would rather live crippled, unable to digivolve again.

He tried to release the spirit. To release the data. And he couldn’t. Duskmon was laughing at him. He wasn’t the one doing it, Kouichi knew. It was a shining golden lock, created from _holy_ power. Kouji was still human. He _couldn’t_.

He battered against the lock, pushed at it. There wasn’t a physical manifestation in this place, but he could feel it, nestled there in the digicode swirling around him.

And then he slowed. The dragon-skull gauntlets lowered slowly, the blood red blade slipping out of the fanged mouth. If he couldn’t stop it by dedigivolving…

If he had to run those two blood red swords through his chest, he would, if it meant Duskmon would never again see the light of day.

And then one of his shoulder eyes caught movement in the dark. Black fur melted into sight, amber eyes glowing faintly in the overwhelming darkness. Not even Duskmon’s superior vision could make out more than a silhouette of the shape—the other was of Darkness too, and could bend it to its will.

One of the dark dragon-skulls rose slowly, brandishing the twisted blood-red sword. Duskmon laughed his haunting laugh, plummeting down like a torrent to overwhelm the gasping remnant of Kouichi’s consciousness. Everything was fading, and becoming clearer at the same time. There was no reason to fear Duskmon. He _WAS_ Duskmon. Cherubimon hadn’t been evil, he had been just, destroying an unfit world and returning everything to darkness. He’d merely shown him the way. His brother was happy. Spoiled. Pampered, while Kouichi and his mother had to scrape away to earn a meager living. It wasn’t right. He needed _revenge._

Fur brushed against his armor, and then there was something _else._ Distracted, Duskmon glanced down, red eyes meeting gold.

The world split, and then broke apart. And Kouichi was left falling again.

x-x-x

Cold. The stone was cold. Kouji’s thoughts were sluggish. He felt like he’d been tossed through a washing machine, wrung inside out, and then tossed out to dry. He forced himself up, swaying, before stumbling, tripping over two extra feet. Scents were drifting toward him now, alien and familiar at the same time.

‘ _I’m Akemon again.’_ He recognized in alarm. They were still in the digital world—why was he Akemon? He couldn’t _feel_ Akemon either. The presence he’d been made so plainly aware of was missing, huddled in the back of his mind in an exhausted pile. This change felt raw without that buffer—wrong.

A groan came from beside him, and Kouji sprang clumsily to his feet, tripping over ungainly puppy paws. It wasn’t dark anymore. A soft orange light hung in the air, and by it Kouji could see his brother sprawled out on the stone floor behind him. Completely human. He stumbled toward him, falling in a pile at his side, “Kouichi.” His voice sounded strange. He _knew_ it changed as a digimon, but this was the first time he’d noticed before. “Nii-san…”

That soft whine was completely him. He didn’t even have the comfort of blaming his weakness on the digimon as he crawled under Kouichi’s limp arm. He wasn’t moving, but Kouji could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He nudged his brother’s face, “Nii-san…”

Kouichi groaned.

“I don’t think…I want to…try that…again…” Kouichi muttered weakly, curling his arm around Kouji’s much smaller form. He could feel the metal of his brother’s D-Scanner against his back—it must have been in his hand.

Kouji didn’t say anything, just basked in relief and warmth and didn’t even think about pride or weakness or anything. They stayed that way for a few moments, lying on the stone floor, before his brother shakily pushed himself into a seated position.

“…you are fuzzy again.”

The rather obvious comment brought Kouji back to himself and he leveled an annoyed glare up at Kouichi. His brother looked dazed, and likely didn’t notice it at all. Pity. “What happened?”

“I don’t…” Kouichi trailed off, stopping to think, “I can’t—” He started to sound panicked, and started to shiver uncontrollably. He was holding on to Kouji uncomfortably tight, but he couldn’t bring himself to try and wriggle out of the grip. After a couple moments the panic attack began to lessen, and Kouichi’s breathing, while still ragged, began to calm, “I…Anyamon and I…we had to force the dedigivolution. It was…I was…Duskmon…again…”

Which had forced his own digivolution. Kouji didn’t know how or where the corrupted Spirit of Darkness had turned up again, but he didn’t want to push it. Even as he clamped down on the panic bells. The experience would still be raw.

But…they had to know. If something had corrupted the spirits again…

“We need to see them, Nii-san.”

Kouichi shuddered, but began to uncurl. His D-Scanner fell out of his limp hand to clatter noisily on the stone floor. He sat up, but ended up pulling his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth quietly. He made no move to touch the D-Scanner again.

Kouji forced himself to his feet, wobbling uncertainly on ungainly puppy paws. He kept himself from tripping—barely—and made it to the forlorn device. He swiped at the largest button, the screen flickering to life. The three sided square, with two circles in the center—the symbol of darkness—glowed purple momentarily on the screen before a projection shot up, the spirit reliefs flickered in the air before them.

Kouichi let out a choked sigh of relief to see the crouching armored lions hovering in the air. Kouji batted at the D-Scanner, sending it sliding across the stone toward his brother. Kouichi picked it up with a shaking hand, the projection blinking out at the contact.

“It wasn’t real…” Kouji heard his brother mutter, more to himself than anything else. Kouji wasn’t so sure. Whatever it had been, had been real enough to force Kouji to evolve. And whatever it was, had been painful enough to leave him feeling beaten up, and Akemon nowhere to be found.

Hesitantly, he felt for Akemon again, following that thread of exhaustion. Maybe the wolf digimon tried to fight the change?

 _‘Come here.’_ He beckoned to that presence in his mind, the one he’d tried so hard to divorce himself from after he’d realized it was there. The response was exhausted wariness. He wondered, not for the first time, just how complete the presence was. Did Akemon realize that Kouji hadn’t wanted him there? Did he realize how relieved he’d been to return to being human? How his pride had rejected any other influences on his thoughts and actions? How determined he was to hold on to that core that was _him_.

After a moment’s hesitation, he tried again, ‘ _Lean on me.’_

After a few moments, Kouji felt Akemon move forward. Hesitantly, he felt the digimon’s weariness and strength settle around him. It was slow, light. It didn’t even feel like it had yesterday when Akemon had been such a part of him that he could hardly tell it apart. It felt more like…Wolfmon. A second skin. It molded around him, forming a protective layer of familiarity between him and the strange form. Everything normalized, the rawness of the change swept away by the steady assurance that all was well. Four paws no longer felt clumsy. Alien scents settled into the familiar category of “recognizable humans” and digimon.

That little ball of exhaustion lingered in the back of his mind, but Kouji did not invite it closer. He didn’t know how much of himself he was willing to give up. This was more like human-as-digimon. This was familiar. He could handle it.

“…what about the others?”

Akemon hadn’t realized Kouichi was waiting for him to respond. He shook his head; the last lingering apprehension at what he’d just done fading as he focused on the problem at hand, “I can smell them. They can’t be far.”

The chamber was small, no bigger than the pit through which they had initially fallen. He craned his neck to check the ceiling—nothing. Just smooth stone. There was a single door on the far wall, through which the faint light was coming from. Now that he was listening, he could hear voices from the other side.

“…still think we should _look_ for them.” –Taichi

“ _We_ were all separated—how do we even start looking?” –Daisuke—“Besides, aren’t we looking for this Crest doohickey? There’s nothing here other than a pedestal and a bunch of funky drawings. Shouldn’t we be worrying about that?”

“Obviously the pedestal once held something.”—That was Ken—“By studying it and the drawings we can form a conclusion as to what it was. But we should find the others first. If they didn’t pass the trial—there’s no telling what happened to them.”

Akemon heard Kouichi getting shakily to his feet. He heard them too. The two quickly crossed the chamber, moving through the door and into a wide, circular chamber. The three Chosen were standing near a raised alter at the center of the room, looking no worse for wear. Their digimon, on the other hand, were piled in a boneless heap—utterly exhausted. They’d dedigivolved—except for Agumon, and he looked about as bad as Akemon felt. Veemon—Chibimon now—seemed to be the only one with any energy. He was the first to spot them, and jumped up with a mere shadow of his earlier enthusiasm, “Akeeeeeeemon!

 _That_ stopped the debate cold. Daisuke whirled around, arms crossed as he glared at them, “Where have you guys been!? We’ve been waiting for _ages._ ”

Akemon bit back a growl. The words were rough, but there was a sense of lightening in the chosen’s face. Relief. He may not like them, but he didn’t want them to be hurt. Akemon could respect that. Besides, it’s not like he could do much when he was tackled by a blue dragon half his size, sending the two of them tumbling in a blue and white ball. Akemon ended up on his back, Chibimon bouncing up and down on his chest, “You’re okay! You’re okay! We were all so worried, and Daisuke said we couldn’t wait any longer, and then you appeared out of a wall and where’ve you been?”

“A wall?” He shoved Chibimon off of him—although it was a half-hearted one, it sent the smaller digimon tumbling. He shot a glance at where they’d come from only to now find a smooth wall. “There was a room…”

“We all ended up in our own rooms! Of course Daisuke and I came out first—”

“Nu’uh. Taichi and I did.” Agumon grumbled in protest. He didn’t look as tired as the others—maybe because he hadn’t been forced to dedigivolve? He sat leaning against the alter, an exhausted Minomon cradled in his clawed arms. “Then you, Chibimon.”

“Anyway.” Chibimon didn’t even miss a breath, “Then Ken and Minomon—and I thought he was tired as Wormmon. He can barely _move_. I tried to wake him up, but Agumon glared at me and—”

“I get it, I get it.” Akemon was feeling light headed from the constant rush. He picked himself up off the floor, just in time from Chibimon to hop onto his back and flop down, “I’m tired.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be jumping around so much?” Akemon rolled his eyes, but didn’t shake the smaller digimon off. Instead he trudged back towards the group; Kouichi had joined the other chosen. He wondered what the others had thought about Kouichi’s changed appearance, but they seemed to have worked it out—he’d been too swamped by hurricane Chibimon to listen in. He started listening now, unsurprised to have Daisuke explaining what they’d figured out so far—

“—that plaque Veemon pulled off? It said _faith_. We were supposed to demonstrate our courage and make a leap of _faith._ How stupid is that? If only he’d read the darned thing we probably could have avoided the thoughts of impending death that probably shaved _years_ off my life.”

“Hey, you think I can read your fancy symbols?” Chibimon complained, flailing so hard in his protest that he nearly dislodged himself, “I just wanted to show ya! I didn’t expect the thing to come flying out like that.”

“Yeah, well, you scared me half to death. Don’t you dare to that again, okay?” Daisuke plucked Chibimon off of Akemon and set him down on top of the pedestal, “Anyway, impending doom, yadayada. Eventually I got surrounded by red light and the digimental of courage was summoned. It’s still here!” He quickly reassured after seeing Taichi’s alarmed look, he pulled out something from his bulging jacket pocket. It was a flame patterned…egg? With a spike jutting out of it? Bizarre. “But the Digimental was what let me in.”

“My digivice glowed.” Taichi removed his weird shaped digivice, and Akemon noticed it was now orange—the same color as the Crest and the light that permeated this room.—it had been white before, “And then it let Agumon and I down in one of those siderooms.”

“You two are the Chosen of Courage.” Ken said simply. He looked down at his clothes, and Akemon realized _why_ they didn’t wonder about Kouichi’s change. “I, was not so fortunate.”

He didn’t elaborate. None of the others asked him to. Ken was wearing a strange blue and white outfit, with gold shoulder guards and a weird split cape. His hair was a spiked mess, and he had a pair of yellow glasses in his hands. His hands were shivering, gripping the glasses so hard Akemon wondered that they didn’t break.

“They forced us to face our fears.” Kouichi muttered. That made more sense, Kouji realized. Duskmon was what Kouichi feared most. And if that were what happened, then what had been his fear? He didn’t remember _anything_ between falling from KaiserLowemon’s back and waking up. What did he have to face? And why couldn’t he recall it?

“How come Ken had to face his personal boogey man while you—” Daisuke cut it off when a surprisingly venomous glare from Ken stopped him. “Just don’t, Daisuke.”

“Fine, fine.” The goggle-head muttered, “Anyway, we found everybody—Funky Drawings, empty alter, no crest, go ahead—Detect!”

x-x-x

Daisuke lurked near the edge of the room, sulking as those smarter than he set to work on figuring out where the heck they were. He was useless here. He didn’t understand the digital runes like Ken did—although he claimed it was getting harder to read them as time passed—they just all looked like pictures. He didn’t even have the experience that Taichi had, which had led him to recognizing a specific section of the funky drawings on the wall, claiming that it was talking about some “Apocalymon” or something like that. Taichi was complaining loudly about Hikari not being here since she could have taken pictures.

Daisuke wished Hikari was here too. Especially when he remembered the short fall into the water. Imagining Hikari with a wet shirt…hmm…that cheered him up quite a bit, even as he could feel his face heating up. With a cough he turned toward the wall, pretending to be looking for meaning in the rubbish squiggles. He didn’t need anyone seeing his red face.

The walls were interesting; he had to give them that. There were plenty of pictures along with the incomprehensible runes. Here and there was a rough depiction of a crest, he thought that one there might be a dude in one of Gennai’s robes if he squinted carefully enough.

He wondered if there was anything on the Digimentals in here. This whole Crest gig? Not really his area of expertise. The Digimentals, however…those he was familiar with. He patted the pocket of his jacket fondly, before hissing in pain as the spike jabbed into his hand through the fabric. Really, that thing wasn’t safe to handle—he was so glad the D-Terminals were able to store them.

Wait. If the D-Terminal’s purpose was to store the Digimentals, then why hadn’t the egg returned to its normal state after whatever that test had been completed?

He carefully—he really didn’t want to stab himself again—removed the digimental from his pocket. There had to be some reason this thing hadn’t just returned to his D-Terminal yet. He stared at it, and then stared around the room, looking for a slot, maybe the spike was actually some sort of _key…_

His eyes stopped on the alter. It was plain stone, smack dab in the center of the room. He’d pulled the Digimental from a pedestal like that—had it really been only a few months ago? It seemed like _forever_ since school had started—although the one back then had a circle drilled into it where Veemon had been kept asleep…

Without realizing it Daisuke soon found himself having crossed the radius of the room, and was staring down at the stone, the digimental still in his hand. There was a noticeable difference in temperature between here and the wall. It had been cooler when Daisuke had pulled it out, but now he could distinctly feel the heat against his skin.

“Talk about getting warmer.” Daisuke muttered to himself, drawing a distracted glance from Ken, who was the closest. It was so weird seeing Ken in that get-up again. It sent his mind back into some pretty bad memories, most vividly the time where Ke—no, the Digimon Kaiser—had made him grovel and beg for the lives of his friends. Of course, he hadn’t known they were just Bakemon at the time.

‘ _You know, for all the times the Kaiser said he’d destroy us, he never would have harmed us.’_ Daisuke realized with a pleased jolt. Enslave their digimon? Sure. Take their D-3s and ban them from the Digital World? Sure. But the one time he’d had them all at his mercy, the Digimon Kaiser had resorted to mind games rather than actually harm one of the kids.

Not that it hadn’t been a low blow, but still.

Anyway, if the restoration of his old duds bothered Daisuke this much, he hated to imagine what was going through Ken’s mind. The destruction of his delusions and the realization of what he’d actually done had torn the genius to bits, and Daisuke knew some wounds took far more than a few paltry months to heal.

They needed to get out of here, and get out of here soon.

He turned his attention back to his little puzzle at hand, the digimental was getting uncomfortable to hold on to, but he didn’t put it back into his pocket. For one, he didn’t put it past the thing to set his jacket on fire with the way it was right now.

This stone pedestal didn’t have the carved hole Veemon’s had. It merely had a circular depression. It looked like it should be holding something. That’s what he’d assumed before. Maybe the pedestal had been holding the Crest Thingy, and now it was gone. But that didn’t seem right.

Now. Now he wondered if maybe he should _put_ something on it.

Maybe a specific digimental that was currently trying to burn his hand off.

With a faint hiss at the pain, Daisuke deposited the spiked orb into the depression, jumping backwards as the room began to rumble.

Something began to beep, wildly.

“What’s going on?” Taichi shouted, using one hand to steady himself against the wall and the other to grab his digivice. It was the digivice that was beeping shrilly, the screen glowing like crazy, “It’s like—ultimate—but I don’t have the crest!”

Daisuke quickly grabbed Chibimon and Minomon—who had long since fallen asleep near the pedestal. Agumon was too big, but he shoved him awake with a “Move!”—and ducked out of the way as a beam of concentrated light shot from Taichi’s shaking digivice. It collided with the digimental, causing it to glow with a fierce white light.

Then it _shattered_. The digimental flew apart into bytes of data which hovered in a cloud above where it had been placed. The sparkling data bytes caused the light passing through it to spread, illuminating a rectangular spot along the far wall with its glow.

The light faded, and with it went the wall. Where the radiance had touched, the wall just seemed to…fade, leaving a dark opening. The data from the digimental hung in the air for a moment, before it streamed toward Daisuke. He quickly shifted Chibimon to his other arm and pulled out his D-Terminal. The data zipped toward the small silver machine before settling as the pixilated egg Daisuke was used to seeing.

The glow on Taichi’s digivice died, and the orange coloring was gone. Once again it sat, white and innocent. Daisuke shared a look with Taichi, who shrugged, “Izzy’s the one to question it—not me.”

Fair enough.

“It seems that was a keyhole.” Ken was the one who spoke. The dark-haired boy was picking himself up off the ground. Daisuke rushed over first to help him up, and then return Minomon to Ken’s shaking arms. The Chosen of Kindness had taken a dive when the room had started shaking, and it left his cape and shoulder armor all skewed. It looked rather silly, but Ken flinched away when Daisuke tried to fix it. “It’s fine.” He muttered, before stalking across the room toward the open wall, “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

x-x-x

“I suppose even idiots are right every now and then.” Akemon muttered as they made their way down the hall. Kouichi shot him a curious look, but Akemon shook his head. If he was going to talk loud enough for Kouichi to hear, then everyone else would too. Unless he let Kouichi carry him again, and there was only so much indignity he could take, especially given the feud between him and Daisuke.

It was fine when they were alone. It was fine when it was necessary. But Akemon would be damned if he let Daisuke of all people see him man-handled like that. Not that Daisuke would know that it was him, but that was beside the point.

The other digimon didn’t have any reservations about being carried. Minomon was conked out in the crook of Ken’s arm, half tucked into that cloak of his. As much as the other boy seemed to dislike the outfit, he didn’t hesitate to use it for the comfort of his digimon. Chibimon was riding on Daisuke’s head, dozing, although every now and then he would add something to the conversation.

Not that there was much.

“I thought we were done with the Doom and Gloom.” Taichi was the one to joke, although his voice sounded a bit shaky. They’d lost their torches, and this hall was as dark as the earlier ones, “We passed the Trials, you’d think we would have found our treasure room by now.”

“I think we may have.” Kouichi was the one to speak, pushing out ahead when the tunnel suddenly ended. “Agumon, could you manage a fireball?”

The dinosaur digimon sucked in a breath, aiming as everyone between him and Kouichi scrambled out of the way. The Warrior of Darkness stood there, staring out into the gloom—could he see?—but as the fireball flew passed him it illuminated a large cavern. It exploded against the far wall, setting the moss alight for a few short minutes.

Those few minutes were all they needed. The room was trashed. Fallen stone, clawed up machinery, and broken glass glittered in the firelight.

“But how would they have gotten in!? There was no sign of any destruction passed the first drop, and _I_ had the digimental.” Daisuke was baffled, “There’s no other entrance to this room—right? Right?”

Not that they could see. It wasn’t a very large room—smaller than the circular one they’d just been in. Scrapped machinery lined the walls, and large, three clawed marks slashed right through the relief of the crest of courage that had been carved into the wall. Ken ended up studying what had once been a glass tube that ran from floor to ceiling—the entire thing was _shattered_.

“There’s _always_ another way in.” Kouichi said quietly, staring out at the destruction as the others rushed forward in alarm. Akemon hung back, sticking to his brother’s side. “Nii-san?”

“The darkness…it’s strong here…” More fires were going up, Agumon setting more and more patches of moss alight, revealing more details. The Warrior of Darkness shook his head, suddenly shivered, and rubbed his arms as if to stave off a chill. He looked down at Akemon, giving him a weak smile, “Don’t mind me.”

But Kouji did mind him. He minded him because the entire place made him feel on edge. There was an oppressive feel here, and if Kouichi said it was darkness, Kouji believed him.

x-x-x


	9. First Generation Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 is messing with my numbering system ;__; Sadness

“I do wish you’d brought pictures.” Gennai grumbled after Taichi and Izzy had finished telling their stories, “To have been able to _see_ the Sanctums! Only the highest of my Order had the privilege of working with those machines!”

Gennai was pacing in his sitting room, the three representatives of the First Chosen in chairs nearby. They’d sent the younger kids home—Ken had looked downright ill, and Iori had been nearly dead on his feet. Sora shook her head. They were just kids. It had been a long day. Too long. Sora had expected to have to rush home after finally making their way out of Datamon’s Pyramid, only to find that what had seemed like at _least_ four hours had only been two, so they were able to get the younger ones home before interrogations would be a problem.

The elders—having more of a…relaxed curfew, especially since their parents knew about Digimon—decided to drop in on Gennai. They could leave the Digital World at will with their original digivices. The robed man had been both anticipating and dreading their visit, and had been probing every little detail he could. Apparently his Order—the same ones who, years before, Sora had seen running around in a hidden lab, where their digieggs, digivices, and tags had almost been stolen—also had something to do with these…happenings.

As she listened to first Taichi’s, and then Izzy’s stories, she felt her heart sinking. Sora felt…like she’d failed. The others had all managed to find this Inner Sanctum or whatever Gennai was talking about, but she…she hadn’t been able to. She’d let them down.

“Sora?” It was Taichi who put a hand on her shoulder, “You alright?”

Izzy was describing the runes in excited detail, and how he’d found the ones for Digimental on the platform, which had led to experiments to try and produce the Digimental of Knowledge. Daisuke’s had been the only one to manifest on its own, having been a part of the Trial. The Sanctum of Knowledge had been guarded by quite a few puzzles and riddles, which Izzy and Iori had taken care of easily. She…she’d never found hers. They’d wandered that pyramid. Searching. They’d found the lab where Datamon had…Cloned her…And it stood to reason that he would have had to find the Crest there, since he’d been forbidden to leave that place…

But there was nothing. Nothing but dust and disappointment.

“I’m fine.” She answered Taichi’s worried expression, forcing a smile to her face, “I was just…We couldn’t find it.”

“Did you ever think—“ Izzy cut in suddenly, “That _maybe_ you already did?”

Both of the other Chosen looked at him oddly. The redhead beamed, “I figured it out after we found the Sanctum of Knowledge. Datamon’s lab? _That_ was the entry way. Taichi defeated the Trials of Love when he crossed all those firewalls to get to you. To save you. He demonstrated his love for you sufficiently to disarm the trap, although at the time we didn’t have the key required to go further.”

Suddenly Izzy noticed Sora’s reddening face, and Taichi’s murderous glare. He backpeddled, “As a friend, of course. One can love a friend as much, if not more than a romantic partner. Anyway,” Having adequately avoided an untimely demise, Izzy went on, “All we need to do to test the hypothesis is to have both you and Miyako check it out some other time, although I’d assume we’d find the same scene before too long. Gennai said our mysterious mega-level digimon was first seen in the Koromon village a week or two ago, and Taichi said he managed to bypass all the traps somehow. It goes to reason he wouldn’t take too long to find the others, especially since most are within a week or two walk of each other.”

“Indeed.” The elder man interjected, “The fact that they had to complete the Trials of Courage meant that he hadn’t gotten in the traditional way. The traps are released once the Chosen of that specific Crest completes them, otherwise they persist. Those of my order created to oversee the maintenance of the Sanctums never left once the way was sealed. I do not know how someone could have gotten there first.”

“Kouji said something weird.” Taichi had his face screwed up, trying to remember, “When we first found it. He said…the darkness was strong. And there was always another way in. I thought he was making a jab at Daisuke—those two weren’t getting along at all, but he said it just as Agumon lit the place up.”

“Did he now…?” Gennai’s tone was thoughtful. “Send him with Hikari, when you find the Crest of Light.”

“We don’t even know where that crest _is_.” Taichi retorted, “And what do you mean, send him with ‘Kari? What’s so special about this kid, Gennai?”

“Hope you never have to find out.” The older man didn’t elaborate further, and Sora could plainly see the frustration on _Izzy’s_ face as well. She’d missed something, she knew it. “As to where the Crest is…I’d ask Tailmon. Vamdemon was the one to find it, and short of hunting down his remaining minions, she is the only link to him we have. Most of them have been reconfigured already, and memory loss is common in that process. Especially for older digimon.”

“Why don’t you just tell us, Gennai? It would be so much simpler than…” Izzy waved his hand vaguely, “All this. We found our crests so _easy_ last time. You didn’t mention the Sanctums. Or warn us of the Trials, or even what to look for really. If we wanted a favorable outcome, then wouldn’t it be logical to give up all the information you could?”

Gennai stopped pacing, his hands folded in the long sleeves of his robe. He stood quietly before the fire, “You should know by now that the Digital World is never as it seems. You found the Crests because you needed them. The Sanctums were never meant to be found.” He said at length, “They are the source of the power. They are the building blocks of evolution. They are _sacred._ ”

Gennai took a breath, turning back to the Chosen, “Much as it may surprise you, Izzy, I don’t _know_ everything. I was very low in my order—one among many. We were the moderators of this world, and all that’s left now is our stored databanks, and what networks I was able to salvage. I don’t _know_ what to look for, until something happens—and even if I know _what,_ it takes time since there is a lot of data to search through.”

Surprising herself, Sora rose to her feet, “Well, I for one think you are doing a great job, Gennai.”

She meant every word of it. She’d always known that there wasn’t anything else in this world quite like Gennai—who had been their guide, their mentor, and guardian all at once—but to think that he himself was so terribly alone? He’d always managed to keep a cheerful face, a bad joke, or a word of wisdom or advice in trying times.

“I’m glad you think so, Sora.” The man returned her smile, “At least with Qinglongmon released I’ve got some help. That old rascal might be infuriating with his puns and riddles, but he’s doing his best to find some intel on our unknown. He doesn’t show up on our usual network.”

“Just keep us posted—we’ll do the best we can.” She turned to Izzy and Taichi, “We need to figure out a way to get word to Jou and Mimi. We won’t be able to open the doors without them. And Hikari was telling me that she, Daisuke, and Takeru have a big test Friday, so we should probably wait for the weekend for them... If we can get a hold of Mimi or Jou then we can take care of the other two during the week but…” Sora trailed off. That still left her own. Love. Maybe Miyako would be willing to check it out quickly tomorrow. If Izzy was right, then it wouldn’t be too much trouble. The traps were already sprung. They’d just need to open the door.

“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.” Taichi slung an arm over her shoulder—a completely platonic gesture, she knew. He was just Taichi. That was how he was. But Izzy’s words earlier suddenly surfaced in her mind, and she felt herself fighting off a blush again. “Anyway, we should be heading home. See ya later Gennai.”

x-x-x

“Hey, Sora?” Taichi called after her as she started down the stairs from Izzy’s apartment. He wasn’t quite sure he knew what exactly he wanted to say, and thus was caught off guard and flustered when she stopped and turned. “I—uh—just wanted to say—about earlier…”

Then she laughed and gave him that cute grin of hers—boy was he glad she didn’t wear that hat anymore, her hair was cute with it pinned back—“There’s nothing to say. Besides, you know you’ll put a foot in your mouth anyway.”

And then, to his surprise, she hugged him. It was a quick hug, but the warmth of her arms was so very real for those few moments. He was sure he was imagining things. He’d wanted to apologize for what Izzy had said earlier. He’d always had a bit of a crush on Sora—she was just too _awesome_ of a girl not to—but after having seen her so flustered—

“Never change, Taichi.” With those words she was letting him go. He watched her in a daze as she moved down the hall, remembering when he’d first seen her in the high school uniform, the first time he’d _ever_ seen her in a skirt. He felt his face reddening, growing warm and uncomfortable.

Deliberately he turned back inside, forcing the thoughts away. She was a very good friend. And that was that. They’d been through a lot together…that was all.

“Oh hey. How’d it go?” Izzy didn’t even turn away from his computer when Taichi returned to his room. He snagged one of the plastic chairs and sank into it, muttering, “She told me not to put a foot in my mouth.”

Izzy laughed, which had Taichi glaring at him. Didn’t he understand how he felt about this?

Well. Scratch that. Izzy probably didn’t. The full-time high school, part-time university student never seemed to notice that he was on the wishlist of nearly every computer savvy girl in school, and perhaps even some of the more materialistic ones too. Everyone knew that Izumi Koushiro was going to be a _very_ well paid programmer one day. Probably for Google.

“Anyway, I’ve finished scanning your digivice. Why didn’t you say you found some new digimon?”

Izzy undocked the Taichi’s digivice as he said it, tossing the small device in the vague direction of his guest’s chairs. Izzy had horrible aim, so it left Taichi scrambling to catch it and he didn’t really think too much on the question until he had his digivice safely in his hands, almost falling off the chair with how far he’d had to reach. “We didn’t? The only digimon we ran into were the Koromon, Kunimon, and a Flymon. We’ve seen them all before.”

“That is odd. Your digivice is registering two previously unscanned digimon.” Izzy frowned, tapping a couple keystrokes into the computer. Taichi felt a distinct sense of déjà vu as he pulled the chair toward the desk—hadn’t they been in this situation yesterday? “The digivice’s scanning capabilities are an area of effect, but it isn’t large enough that you wouldn’t have seen it…”

The computer beeped cheerfully as the data was fully configured and uploaded, two windows popping up on the otherwise empty screen. The first was…a robotic lion? Its armor was all black, with red gems scattered amongst golden accents. There were guns mounted on its shoulders. He _knew_ he wouldn’t have missed something like _that_.

“It’s another Null Digimon.” Izzy muttered; using the term he’d coined to refer to the digimon not found in his database. Taichi admitted that it was easier to say than ‘digimon that should not exist.’ “KaiserLowemon. I’m starting to wonder if “Variable” type just means “Unknown”…oh. There actually is a description.”

Taichi leaned over to read it. Yesterday that field had been empty save for the ‘Data not found message.’ This one was still much shorter than they were used to, only a few characters long. But those few characters had Izzy and Taichi sharing worried looks.

‘ _Beast Warrior of Darkness.’_

Without any words, Izzy switched to the second screen. This one was humanoid. Duskmon, the characters read. It was a far more intimidating digimon, looking like it belonged in Vamdemon or Piedmon’s armies. He had black and red armor, with eyes _everywhere_. On his chest. On his shoulders. Knees. Feet. His hands were the dark skulls of dragons. Taichi shuddered and tore his eyes away from the image, looking over the stats. Where all the other Null Digimon had read “Variable type”, there were just a string of random characters, like the kind that resulted from corrupted data. It also had a short description.

“Warrior of Darkness—how could you _miss_ these Taichi?” Izzy sounded stunned, “They must be at _least_ champion level. You said Kouji mentioned strong darkness—do you think they could have been it?”

“I don’t know. But _anything_ of Darkness doesn’t sound good.” Taichi said grimly, wracking his mind for _anywhere_ they could have encountered these rather unforgettable digimon. There was only one possibility. The eternity of moments when they’d been falling through the Pit, before his Digivice had activated. They’d been in complete darkness, except for two flashes of blinding light, but he’d thought those had been from the Trial of Courage activating… “They could have been in the pit. Or in the room before we were. Or even following behind us. We didn’t see anything like that. Afterwards we were in a little fight with some Kunimon. The lion…we lost sight of Anyamon during a battle, but I didn’t see Kouji’s digivice activate. I don’t think it was him.”

“Warriors of Darkness…” Izzy muttered, “Do you think they could be related to our Sanctum wreaking target? Underlings maybe? You said the Koromon reported _gold_ light from our Mega-digimon. It might have come from the lion, Digimon generally follow predictable color patterns.”

“They’d have to be. They are darkness. Darkness is always evil.” He remembered Devimon. Vamdemon. Piedmon. Apocalymon. Suddenly Izzy’s head shot up from where it had been resting pensively on his hand. “Hey Taichi, do you remember the time Gennai called us back to the Digital World? When we had to give up our Crests up to keep the forces of Darkness at bay? If these Sanctums are the source of our Crest’s power, and they were destroyed, then what would happen to the barrier keeping the world safe?”

Neither of them liked to think about that.


	10. Second Generation Interlude

“ _Just because you say you are sorry doesn’t erase everything you’ve done!”_

_“Wormmon would never come back for you! Not after the way you treated him!”_

_“Digimon Kaiser! Digimon Kaiser!”_

_“Ken--!”_

Ken jerked awake, his heart racing, his breathing ragged. His hair was mussed from sleep and fell in front of his face, obscuring his vision in a way that reminded him all too much of the spiked hairstyle he’d sworn to leave behind him. He shook his head wildly, brushing the hairs out of his eyes and attempting to smooth them down and away. His room was dark, the only light being a faint glow from the digits of his alarm clock, blinking minutely as the digit changed from 3:56 to 3:57. It was just a dream.

He could hear Minomon complain sleepily from where the digimon was nestled into a nest of blankets, he could faintly hear the rumble of the occasional car out on the street. But otherwise it was silent apart from his thudding heart and gasping breaths. He wasn’t the Kaiser anymore—regardless of what happened earlier today.

_‘Have the courage to accept the dark parts of yourself…”_

The words without words drifted out of his memory, and they made him flinch. He could remember the weight of the armor. The weight of the cape. The hard edges of the runed glasses in his hands. He remembered seeing that vision of himself, standing before him in a field of grey, one gloved hand stretched out.

“ _I am your self-confidence. I am your ambition. I am the drive to do whatever it takes, no matter what.”_ And then he shot Ken that crooked grin, the one that haunted his nightmares, “ _Without me you are nothing,_ Kenny-boy. _”_

In that place, out of time, out of place, Ken had taken that hand. It made sense. He was…empty. His school work suffered. His parents noticed his self-esteem problems, and often pushed him to try and make new friends. His dad had pulled him aside today, when he and Kouji had been heading for school, just to tell him that he hoped they were getting along well.

_But we aren’t friends._

None of the others were. Daisuke…maybe. Maybe Daisuke was his friend. Maybe the others were too. But until he could trust himself, it was a maybe. Always a maybe.

So he’d taken the hand, and the weight and the burden of guilt came crashing back down on him, just as the armor had materialized on his shoulders. He was glad it hadn’t persisted, that it had all vanished once they found the portal out of the Sanctum of Courage. He couldn’t tell the others. He couldn’t tell them he’d been cowardly enough to even touch that evil again.

The Trial had called it courage. Ken called it weakness. He refused to be anything like that again. He’d been forced to walk as the Digimon Kaiser again, for that brief period of time, and Ken loathed every moment of it. He had seen the shock and distrust in Daisuke’s eyes when Ken had walked out of the room. Daisuke. The one who had stood by him. The one who had been his advocate, who had battered down the walls of resentment and trust the other Chosen—and Ken himself—had thrown up between them.

It had been Minomon—sleeping like a log in Ken’s arms—which had convinced Daisuke that he hadn’t reverted. He hadn’t known how to explain until they’d figured out it was a trial of some kind, and Ken’s penance was to relive his evil, to bear the weight of his guilt once more.

Maybe he’d been getting complacent. Maybe he’d been forgetting. He wasn’t done with his atonement—no matter that the other Chosen trusted him. As long as he’d be tempted to take that hand…to even touch that darkness again…

Ken rolled away from the rest of the room, from the glowing digits that were slowly ticking toward morning. And then he froze.

Sitting on the pillow beside him was a pair of golden glasses.

Minomon woke with a start to the crack of breaking glass and snapping plastic. The insect digimon blearily rolled around in his blanket cocoon, eyes peeking out, “You ‘kay, Ken?”

“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” He didn’t know where he found them, but Ken managed the reassuring words, even as his hand throbbed where the glass had dug in, even as blood welled from the cuts he staunched quickly with his pajama shirt.

“M’kay…” Minomon settled again, “G’night Ken…”

“Good night Minomon.”


	11. Fourth Generation Interlude

The window creaked open. Slowly. Deliberately. The boy on the bed stirred, but did not wake as Akemon slipped out the narrow opening. He glanced back once, his brother huddled on the bed—shivering, clutching his knees to his chest. Akemon knew what it was. Even as he knew he wouldn’t be able to wake him from it. 

It killed him that he couldn’t help, but whatever happened during the Trials of Courage was something Kouichi had to deal with on his own. Besides. Kouichi’s nightmare wasn’t the only reason he was awake.

He could feel the night breeze threading lazy fingers through his fur, sending him shuddering even as he nudged the window shut. He just sat on the balcony, looking out over the city. The temperature was dropping. He could smell winter in the air. He didn’t want to think about what else he could smell in the air. If he didn’t think about it, Akemon could deal with it, shuffling it all into a general pile of “Human World” unpleasantness.

_‘You—I deal with it. Together.’_

Kouji shivered as the steady peace he’d made with…the digimon wavered, remembering snippets from his dream.

_‘Stronger together than apart.’_

It was hard to hear his thoughts being thrown back at him. How many times had he chafed at his inability to Spirit Evolve? How many times had he silently complained that he couldn’t help? He bared his teeth at the memory, the buzzing of wings, the whoosh of wind. They’d all been exhausted after leaving the sanctum. The portal appeared to have triggered the swapping effect, leaving Kouji human, and Anyamon quietly brooding.

They’d been almost home. Almost to the Digital Gate. They could see the television that would let them home to rest and recover.

But cries for help from the Koromon villiage wouldn’t let them. Wouldn’t let them go. Chibimon and Minomon couldn’t do anything. Agumon and Anyamon were the only option.

x-x-x

“ _Baby Flame!”_ Agumon’s fireball scattered the Kunimon, the yellow caterpillar-esque digimon quickly backed away from the Koromon they’d been surrounding. Agumon jumped in front of the small group. A group of eight or so of the rookie digimon had decided to gang up on the group of in-training digimon who’d ventured out of the village to gather some food. “Hey, knock it off! Why are you doing this?”

“Cause they are scared!”

“Scared!”

“Weaklings.”

“Weaklings don’t deserve food.”

“Weaklings _are_ food.”

The group of insect digimon twittered, as much among themselves as it was in response to Agumon’s question. Webbing shot toward the group from all directions, but a well-placed Baby Flame burned away a good portion of it. Anyamon tore at the remainder, wicked claws unsheathed and ready, moving in to guard the backside of the group, where two of the Kunimon had snuck around through the bushes for an ambush attack. They were wary to go near the larger cat, but that didn’t stop them from tossing webbing his way. Strings of thick, sticky white were a stark contrast to the dark fur, laying loose and limp across his back,

“Since when do digimon think of other digimon as food?” Agumon shot back, “There’s plenty of fruit in these woods for all of you!”

“The new one.”

“The powerful one.”

“He taught us.”

“Of the code.”

“Eat the code.”

“Become stronger!”

The angry buzzing of wings filled the air. Wood cracked and splintered as a heavy weight plummeted through the forested canopy. Anyamon was forced to spring to the side as a wicked red stinger shot straight toward him, embedding itself deeply in the loamy earth of the jungle. Kouji clenched his fist as Taichi said something about Flymon. He itched to jump in and help. His D-Scanner was digging into his palm painfully. He wasn’t even paying attention to Taichi’s worried mutterings. He knew well enough himself.

The rookies, they could have handled. But a champion?

“Agumon!” Taichi yelled as the buzzing faded, the Flymon disappearing into the cover of the trees to make another pass, “You are going to have to digivolve! I don’t think you guys can take _all_ of them.”

Chibimon was struggling in Daisuke’s arms, “Let me go! Let me help! I can take ‘em! I promise! I feel much better now!”

“You can’t even become _Veemon.”_ Daisuke only tightened his grip, “You go in there, then they’d have to worry about protecting _you_ too.”

Honestly, it was a surprise how the digimon here just seemed to ignore the presence of the humans entirely. None of the Kunimon had even bothered to shoot webbing in their direction. The Warriors were used to being targeted. Kouji wasn’t used to being ignored.

“I can’t!” Agumon shot back between fireballs. The Kunimon, emboldened by the presence of Flymon, were pressing their advantage, “I tried, but I guess I don’t have the energy for it!”

“Damn it.” Taichi was clutching his digivice, willing the thing to activate to no avail. Kouji watched it all, and then the slowly shrinking knot of digimon. His hand clenched into a fist, warmth rising as the swirling code began to collect. It came slowly. Sluggishly. He tried to force it—

  1. Sharp pain shot through his hand, causing him to lose his concentration and sending the gathered code to fade away. The pain hadn’t come from that one though, he dropped his digivice with surprise, the screen glowing, Ophanimon’s cross flashing warningly. He glared at it.



‘ _I get it, I get it.’_

He ignored Taichi’s demands, and Ken’s worried questions as he left his D-Scanner where it lay, snapping a large sturdy branch off the tree. He didn’t even think. He was never one to sit on the sidelines. Not while someone was in danger.

Especially when that person was his brother.

Staff fighting was more Kouichi’s specialty, but he’d fought off a swarm of Pagumon before. Eight Kunimon shouldn’t be _too_ hard.

He plunged into the frey, using the large stick to push back the surprised digimon. Obviously they hadn’t expected any resistance from the human sector. Did these guys really never help? “Anyamon!” He yelled toward his brother, who was becoming weighed down by the webbing. “Go.” He spun, ducking under a shot of webbing and using the stick to knock the Kunimon upside the head, sending it rolling along the ground—dazed. He reached his brother’s side and heaved the webbing off, “Go. Get Flymon. I’ll cover this.”

Two strings of web caught onto his staff as he blocked the shots heading for Anyamon, attempting to force the cat back into the huddle of digimon. Kouji smiled grimly, and spun it hard, the sudden force pulling the connected Kunimon away from their perch in the trees and sending them tumbling toward the ground. Anyamon quickly pounced on them, the fury of his teeth and claws sending the insect digimon fleeing into the woods without much resistance.

That left six—no, five since Agumon had managed to burn one enough to send him scampering away—and they hung back nervously, uncertain what to make of the new fighter. Or waiting for Flymon to return. He could hear the buzzing. It was getting louder. And louder.

“Go!” Anyamon hesitated, and then jumped onto a low hanging branch, the dark form of the cat digimon vanishing into the shadows in the trees. Kouji eyed his staff critically. The little stunt he’d pulled had nearly webbed the whole thing. It was definitely heavier. And clumsier.

“Toss me another stick.” He yelled at the others, who seemed rather dumbfounded. Ken had picked up his digivice, but Kouji couldn’t bring himself to care right now. The Kunimon began to close in at Anyamon’s departure. He smacked another bundle of webbing out of the air—they were trying to go straight for the Koromon now, he realized. Each one he blocked was making the stick heavier. Each movement slower. “I need another one!”

“What do you think you are doing!?” Taichi yelled back, finally snapping out of his daze.

“Helping!” Kouji grunted, wincing as some of the webbing splashed over his hand. It burned, binding it tight to the stick. He couldn’t change weapons now. But…maybe…

He brought it down on his knee, snapping the staff right under where his hand was bound. The bottom half dropped away, and with it went half the weight. That was better. He ignored the burning in his hand, making a testing swipe at the nearest Kunimon to push it back. He actually practiced Kendo, so this felt more natural.

Taichi was apparently still yelling at him, but Kouji grunted, “Either get over here and help, or shut up.”

He could hear Agumon’s ragged breaths behind him. The dinosaur had driven off another Kunimon; leaving four, two on each side of the ragtag group. He couldn’t even say the name of his attack anymore, just peppering the insects with fireball after fireball. Kouji could tell he wouldn’t last much longer.

Flymon’s buzzing and crashing and growling was making an uproar over in the trees to the right, and Kouji itched to go help. To make sure Anyamon was okay. But he forced himself to stay. He was needed here. He just had to trust that Anyamon could take care of it. If he needed to, he could slide evolve. Kouji had quite spectacularly caught the Chosen’s attention.

“ _Petite Meteor!”_ Anyamon’s voice rang out, distracting Kouji from the rhythmic strikes he needed to knock the webshots out of the air. They weren’t blobs anymore, meant to weigh down and hinder. They were desperate shots, strings to grab and bind the vulnerable Koromon. A wailing cry rose into the air, and the buzzing ceased.

“Waaaah!” A blob of pink went zipping past him, one of the strings getting through his guard and snatching the nearest Koromon. Kouji lunged after it. The Kunimon got to it first. It squeezed the webbing tighter and tighter, hissing in delight as the struggling stilled, a swirling code beginning to appear around the digimon.

‘ _The digicode!’_ He didn’t even think about it. He jammed the stick hard into the Kunimon’s side, knocking the distracted digimon away from the paralyzed Koromon. The insect digimon responded with even more and more frantic webbing. His hands, his feet, his arms, they all burned. He could barely move, there were so heavy. But he had a hold of the Kunimon, and he could see color leaching back into the Koromon. Good. If he could just keep him safe a little longer. Just a little. Just long enough for the code to fade.

More hissing laughter. One of the Kunimon he’d thought he’d driven out of the fight earlier dropped out of the trees on a line of webbing. Jaws open wide it greedily drank in the digicode, leaving Kouji unable to do anything but watch as the little pink digimon faded into sparkling bits of code and dissolved, swallowed up by its killer.

Anyamon leaped out of the trees, claws and jaws glowing an eerie dark purple. He landed on the Kunimon, claws shredding the worm, sending it to the same fate as it had sent the Koromon. He could only watch numbly as the two sets of code floated free, each forming into the faint image of an egg before fading.

The others scattered. Flymon was gone. Anyamon was back. And one of their number had been reconfigured.

Kouji ignored the others as they freed him from the webbing. He ignored everything but his brother at his side. His fingers clutched at the thick neck-fur—he’d never thought about it, but it was almost a _mane_ —and Anyamon leaned heavily against his side, the warmth comforting them both. Anyamon had been too late, and Kouji had _failed_.

x-x-x

Akemon whined, slumping to the cold concrete, putting his paws over his eyes. He could still see the Koromon—frozen, slowly dissolving. He’d failed. He’d failed. Why couldn’t they fight together? Why couldn’t they both digivolve? Both fight?

‘ _Together—we are strong.’_

And that…that was not his own thought. And it scared him.

‘ _You-and-I are one. Why walk alone?’_

Because he was alone. He was _himself._ He accepted help. He accepted Wolfmon. But Wolfmon left when he was done, leaving Kouji alone again. He was _himself._

Snatches of a different memory drifted forward. Blue eyes identical to his own stared into his, set into a lupin face. Kouji had never seen himself as Akemon, not except for blurred glimpses in windows, but he knew the face. He knew each ear twitch, each involuntary quiver of the nose.

 _“Why?”_ He remembered asking. He didn’t remember where the dark place was. Perhaps it was his imagination. Or maybe it was just a dream, “ _You have your own wants. Your own life. Why are you doing this?”_

_“Why? Because I am digimon. You are what I become.”_

He could feel himself drowning in the certainty. In the determination. He could feel the fierce desire to protect. It tried to seep into all the little cracks of himself he never knew was there. Change was so simple to this creature. It was a fact of life. Switching bodies. Switching _minds_.

Oh no. He didn’t just take Akemon’s form when he digivolved.

Kouji caught a whimper trying to escape his throat. He could feel Akemon hovering. Waiting for waver in his will. Waiting for a crack to seep in. Waiting. Waiting. He did _not_ appreciate Akemon pushing the issue while he was down, while he was hurting, while he was mourning the digimon he’d failed to protect. He hardened his will, bracing it with anger.

“I agreed to lean on you. To support you when you need it.” Kouji snarled to the night. To the unseen presence in his mind. “But I am _not_ you.”

Denial. Disblief. But they were different. Separate. The more Kouji tried to cling to himself, the stronger, more different, more independent Akemon seemed to become.

‘ _We shall see.’_


	12. The Whispering of the Mad

The week took far too long for Hikari’s liking. The day of their exam inched forward, ever so slowly. In between massive studying sessions, Hikari kept an eye on the emails shooting back and forth between the other Chosen who were not resigned to hitting the books. Other than Hope, Light, and Friendship, all the Sanctums had been breached. It chafed at her, knowing that the longer they waited, the more likely it was that they’d be too late.

With her exam finally completed, the Chosen of Light shouldered her backpack, rushing ahead of the others. Daisuke was struggling on some of the last few problems—which she wasn’t the least surprised about. He had paid very little attention despite having been the one to ask her to tutor him—and Takeru would likely need a few more minutes as well since he liked to double check his answers. Normally she would have waited for them anyway, but…she’s been worried about Tailmon. She’d been just as restless as Hikari had, if not more so since she’d been stuck at home.

The computer room was lit up, so as she opened the door she expected either Fujiyama-sensei, or Ken and Kouji to have beaten her there. Part of that was correct.

“Good afternoon, Tailmon. Kouji. Akemon” She smiled at the little knot of digimon and person sitting at one of the tables further into the room, well out of view of the door’s window. Chibimon—who had been snoring away soundly at Akemon’s side (he seemed to have gotten attached, despite the issues between Kouji and Daisuke)—perked up and mumbled in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

“Finished early?” Kouji glanced up at the clock. The bell hadn’t rung yet. Honestly, Hikari didn’t understand why Daisuke disliked the new Chosen so much. He was always polite to her. She nodded, dropping the bag on the table and grabbing a chair, “The others are still going. My guess is TK will show up on time, and Daisuke will be late. At least that is what usually happens.”

There was a sleepy “Daisuke is the greatest…” from Chibimon, which garnered him a fond smile from Hikari. For all of Daisuke’s boisterous attitude, he had a deep bond with his digimon, and Chibimon loved him.

“Where’s Ken? Is he meeting us?”

Kouji shook his head, “His mother wanted his help today, so he told me to give you all his apologies. I remembered the way, so I came on my own.”

“That’s a shame… So how is school going? Is it much different from your normal one?”

They talked for a while. Hikari was enjoying this little chance to de-stress from the exams and the anxiety creeping up on her all week. Kouji was nice. He was pretty quiet, and would rather let her talk and just listen in, but if she could just find a good topic…

But she was stopped by the beep of an incoming email. It was her brother. He had soccer practice today. She rolled her eyes at his both apologetic, and advising email. He’d originally planned to come along—although why, she had no idea. They already found _his_ Crest—and was now giving her a bunch of last minute instructions. “Oh, ‘Nii-san…”

That seemed to catch his attention. “You have a brother?”

“Huh? Oh, you didn’t know? Let me guess, Taichi didn’t introduce himself properly?”

“He…began firing off questions almost immediately, I’m afraid much of what he said went over my head.” Kouji admitted sheepishly, ducking his head apologetically, “I didn’t mean to, but he...”

Hikari laughed, “Don’t worry; my brother can be a little over excited. Especially when we meet new Chosen. For the longest time we thought we were the only ones and now we’ve got a handful more popping up. Ken mentioned there are five others where you are from?”

“Yes. But our adventures happened a couple of years ago...I’m afraid we weren’t actively involved until Akemon and I were drafted for this current crisis.”

Hikari smiled. She got him talking. He seemed to be relaxing. The digimon were dozing. Chibimon curled up next to Akemon, and Tailmon was leaning against the wolf’s back, her ears drooping and tail flicking as it was won’t to do when taking a cat-nap. Normally Tailmon wouldn’t ever be caught cat-napping in public like this—it exhibited a weakness she didn’t like showing—but Hikari had noticed the extended stay in the Human World had been trying on the digimon. Hikari hadn’t brought her to school at all, so she hadn’t even been able to enjoy the company of the other digimon.

“Do you have any siblings?”

Akemon twitched at that question, interestingly enough. Kouji didn’t respond right away, but he noticed the twitch too. He paused, watching Akemon thoughtfully. Hikari wondered if she’d blundered onto a sore point, but Kouji ended up shaking his head and continuing, “Yes. A younger brother. We…met on our adventures.”

Oh. Hikari felt that was as far as she should push. The use of…”met” had implications she wasn’t quite comfortable prying into, especially since she had only known Kouji for a week. She knew how much their living situation had been a sore point for Yamato and Takeru, and at least they had _known_ about each other.

“At least you had your brother to talk to about your adventures. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had Taichi. He had to reassure me that it wasn’t all a dream. I was young enough it could’ve just been a childhood fantasy.” Hikari admitted, drawing the focus of the conversation to herself, “I barely remember my first encounter—I was only a couple years old. And then I was 8 when Taichi and the others received their digivices. Now here I am, three years later, having another run.”

“Yeah…The aftermath would have been…difficult without him.”

Now there was a story there, but Hikari had noticed that Kouji became evasive when the topic was uncomfortable, but he never really stonewalled her, always answering. She appreciated that, so she would respect his privacy. It was moot point anyway; anything she could have said would have been cut off by the end of school bell.

Chibimon jumped up at the sharp clang, screeching “I DIDN’T DO IT!”

And then he blinked, staring around the room blearily. Tailmon yawned, rubbing an eye with her paw, “Don’t be so loud; what’s a kitty gotta do for a decent cat-nap around here?”

“Sorry.” Chibimon wilted, and looked around, perking up when he noticed Hikari in the room, “OH! Is Daisuke here?!”

“Not yet.” Hikari soothed. It was quite funny to actually be able to view the buildup of Chibimon’s excitement. He always pounced on Daisuke as soon as the goggle-head came into the room, but Hikari usually arrived _with_ Daisuke. This rabid bouncing pre-excitement was a treat to see. Chibimon took up her attention as he scrambled up and over and around excitedly, much to Akemon’s disgruntlement. Tailmon knew better, and had pre-emptively climbed up on Hikari’s shoulder. She was snickering down at Akemon, who was currently being bounced upon.

The door burst open to a cheery, “Olly olly oxen free!” much to Chibimon’s delight. The dragon leapt from table to table, dodging Hikari’s attempts to grab him.

“You know, I was expecting a “Lucy, I’m home!”” Takeru remarked, following Daisuke in. The goggle-head caught Chibimon easily, “I thought about it, but I used that one last week.”

“You are such a dork.” Miyako shook her head, and Iori chuckled as they pushed in. As Hikari expected, the stampede of digimon began. After initially greeting and demanding hugs from their respective Chosen, the digimon descended hungrily on Miyako. Hikari giggled as the purple-haired girl was mobbed, specifically by the three in-training digimon. Oh, Tailmon and Patamon were waiting rather impatiently for their food too, but at least they weren’t bouncing in an excited circle as Miyako pulled out the bag she always brought from her family’s convi. Only Akemon didn’t join the anticipatory crowd, and Hikari frowned in concern as Miyako doled out the food. “Hey, don’t you want anything?”

The wolf looked up, startled, but then shook his head, “I’m not hungry.”

Bizarre. Digimon were always hungry. It was also a good idea to feed them before an adventure, otherwise you’d run the risk of them running out of energy. She moved over to the quickly disappearing pile of food and snatched up a couple packages. Tailmon voiced a small protest, since she’d been reaching for one of the taiyaki Hikari had taken.

“Sorry.” Hikari smiled down at her digimon, “I’m going to save these for later.”

Tailmon shrugged and dug into a packet of yogurt, and no one else complained as Hikari tucked them into her backpack.

Finally, after the ravenous horde had been sated, Daisuke leaned back into his chair; a satisfied Chibimon sprawled out on his knees. “So, what’s the plan? Are we waiting on Taichi again?”

“Nah. Nii-san can’t make it.” Hikari shook her head, “But he did send me _pleeeeeeenty_ of instructions.”

She sighed, “He said to split up, going after both the Sanctums of Hope and Light. We can’t get Friendship without Yamato, and he’s busy right now. We need to split along DNA evolution lines just in case—so TK and Iori, and Miyako and I.”

She paused, remembering Taichi’s last instructions. Daisuke wasn’t going to like it. “And then you should go with TK, and Kouji with me.” She didn’t know why, but Taichi had been insistent about that.

Daisuke twitched. She could see his jaw tightening. She knew about his jealousy—she wasn’t as dense as some people thought. She waited for the explosion.

“…okay.”

_Fizzle…?_

What? She blinked. Daisuke, in a rare moment of self-control, had managed to let out the anger in a heavy sigh, and was looking at her with a forced grin. “Don’t worry; I’ll keep an eye on TA for you.”

She returned his smile, although Takeru was the one to groan, “Just use Takeru if you can’t remember it.”

“Did you say something TS?”

Hikari giggled. Everything was fine.

x-x-x

“Alright! I’ve got the coordinates from Izzy for the Pyramid—do you guys want to go first?”

Daisuke just smiled, “Nah, just email them to Iori. You guys should go on.”

He watched patiently as Miyako fiddled with the gate, setting the destination. He did his best to ignore how happy Hikari looked at being able to spend time with Kouji. It made his teeth ache from the amount of grinding they were doing. But no, he had to be patient. Just be patient. He knew there was something off about that kid.

The girls set up in front of the computers, Kouji following. They all had bags. Daisuke had one of his own. Normally they didn’t bother to bring any equipment unless they were staying overnight, but given the issues they’d encountered trying to find the Sanctum of Courage, they decided rope and a flashlight were mandatory. And an extra change of socks. Daisuke didn’t think they’d run into more water since TJ’s crest was supposed to be in the desert but…he didn’t want to risk it.

The light flared as the Digital Gate opened, swallowing the three teens and their digimon. Daisuke turned to Takeru, who glanced back at him. The blonde looked puzzled, “You were right. It is black and grey.”

“Ask Ken or Taichi later. It was blue yesterday.” Daisuke grinned. He knew there was something up. And now Takeru and Iori knew it too.

“Should we have let him go with ‘Kari?” Takeru murmured, worried. Takeru had been skeptical when Daisuke had first brought up his concerns after they’d both gotten out of the test. He’d liked Kouji. Patamon liked Kouji. But…given the usage of Ken’s old Dark Digivice…

“Miyako will watch out for her.” Iori said quietly, confidently.

“Yeah. He may be a prick, but he wouldn’t hurt her.” Grudgingly, Daisuke admitted it. Kouji was a Chosen. He’d actually jumped into a fight to help his digimon. To try and protect the Koromon. Daisuke didn’t like him. He didn’t like him being anywhere near Hikari. But now he felt he could trust the guy to protect her if they needed it.

“Alright!” Daisuke broke the heavy stillness, moving toward the computer. The gate was still open, but the girls had moved. He could see them in the distance, specks walking away. “Let’s get this party rolling!”

x-x-x

Izzy hadn’t been positive which sector Vamdemon’s castle had ended up in after the Dark Masters had screwed with the Digital World, but both he and Tailmon agreed that it was probably the best place to start. Nefertimon would have shivered, staring down at the ruins beneath her. They’d been flying for some time, but this. This was it. It hadn’t survived the re-formatting of the world nearly as well as the others.

Hikari was a welcome weight on her back, warmth among the chill that was settling over Nefertimon as she circled the castle. Her wingbeats were slow, measured. She did not look forward to venturing into her nightmares. It had been years since Vamdemon. But…

A phantom pain shot through her paw as she remembered the scar. It wouldn’t be there while she was Nefertimon—she knew that. But she’d lived with it as Tailmon for so long…

“Are you okay, Nefertimon?” Hikari’s voice, warm, worried, loving, drifted down from her back, carried on the wind of her wingbeats. She felt Hikari’s arms around her neck, tight enough to hold on, but not too tight to be uncomfortable…

“Of course, Hikari. It is merely memories.” Just ghosts and demons. A spectre of the time when she’d lost herself, drowned in Vamdemon’s hate and darkness.

But she’d found the light now.

“Is this it?” Hikari had never seen the castle. She hadn’t been with the others, Nefertimon remembered. They’d gone to the Human World to find her. Nefertimon didn’t speak, only nodding to confirm Hikari’s guess. “We should go get the others. This shouldn’t be too far for Aquilamon to carry Anyamon. The sooner we get in, the sooner we can leave.”

Nefertimon didn’t argue, all too happy to wheel away from the corpse of a castle and back toward the copse of trees where they had left the others. It took a moment for her to find the specific spot, but there weren’t many trees studding the rolling hills. And only one of the small clumps had a thin wisp of smoke curling above it.

She angled her wings, diving toward the ground at breakneck speed. She heard a strangled shout from Hikari—something about the ground—but easily fixed the issue with a quick flare of her wings, killing the speed and landing neatly on the outskirts of the trees. Her heart was racing from the adrenalin—the sheer rush of the flight having driven away some of her melancholy.

“Please warn me before you do that!” Hikari’s arms were far, far tighter—having been gripping on for dear life. She had a big grin underneath her mask; even she gave Hikari a token apology. Nefertimon was polite, but what people did not see couldn’t hurt them.

And then Anyamon was there, sitting just under the shade of the trees. They were too small for Nefertimon to navigate easily, and she was loathe to relinquish her flight-capable form so soon. Besides, it would take some time before she would be able to armor digivolve again if she did so, and they still had to fly back.

“Could you bring the others?”

Hikari swiveled to see who Nefertimon was speaking to, but Anyamon was gone, already moving through the trees shadows. Nefertimon watched the spot where he had been, thoughtfully. He seemed…different. Oh not in looks. Or speech. Or even actions. Digivolution changed those. It was a fact of life. When one digivolved, one changed. Nefertimon may be Tailmon most of the time. She may remember Tailmon. But she was not Tailmon right now.

He felt…different. That was all she could say. He didn’t feel like Akemon at all.

She shook away the thoughts as she heard the others approach, and Hikari slid off her back to meet them.

Soon enough—too soon. Nefertimon was not looking forward to returning—it was decided.

“Alright, Hawkmon! Let’s get rolling.” Miyako lifted her D-3 as everyone spread out to give Aquilamon the room he would need. “Just go ahead and digivolve.”

They waited. The silence growing ever tense as the insects chirped on merrily in the grasses. Hawkmon was looking around in confusion, inspecting his red wings as if he was merely waiting for them to double in size. Which he was. They just weren’t doing it. “Could there be something wrong with the Digivice? I am not hungry at all, but it does not appear to be working.”

The purple-haired Chosen studied her D-3 intently, pressing buttons and even shaking it a couple of times with an irritated, “Come on! Digivolve!”

But no matter what she did, there was no resulting glow, nor the beeping that normally entailed the start of an evolution sequence. Her digivice remained dark and silent.

“Are there any Dark Spires around here?” She asked at last, looking up at Nefertimon, “I didn’t see any on the map, but we haven’t really been tracking them since so many were used up with BlackWarGreymon.”

“I did not see any on the flight.” But perhaps one was hidden somewhere. That might explain some of the apprehension she was feeling. Maybe it wasn’t all memories.

Miyako frowned, “Well. We can armor digivolve, but I don’t think Halsemon would be able to carry Anyamon. Maybe we should just walk instead.”

“I can follow.” Anyamon’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a knife. He had barely spoken since they had arrived in the digital world. “If you will fly low, and show me the direction, I can keep up.”

He shared a look with his partner, who after a tense moment, turned stiffly and walked over to Miyako—Kouji had been hanging back from the others, not having much to contribute about travel arrangements. “If one of you could take me, Anyamon will make better time on his own.”

“Are you sure?” Miyako looked worriedly between Kouji and Anyamon. Neither really looking at the other. Kouji nodded. “Well. Halsemon can easily carry the two of us—Hikari! How far is this castle, anyway?”

“About a ten minute flight. Perhaps more if we slow down for Anyamon.”

“I can keep up.”

And with that, it was decided.

As Nefertimon was winging away she caught a light flare in the shade of the steadily shrinking copse.

_Digivolution?_

But no. Kouji’s digivice hadn’t reacted at all.

x-x-x

The castle was _creeeeepy_.

Tailmon led them slowly, but surely through the barebones of a building that once belonged to some big hotshot digimon back in the day. Miyako didn't know why Tailmon was sure the Sanctum of Light or whatever was supposed to be here, but the base of the baddie who found the Crest was as good a place as any to look. She shivered, rubbing her arms to try and rid them of the chill that seemed to pervade this place. They were currently in the lower levels of the castle, Tailmon leading them down and down the increasingly dusty corridors.

_Ah. Ah. Aaaachoo!_

She sniffled, and then smiled sheepishly as she noticed all eyes were on her. The sound from her sneeze continued to echo in the empty halls, “Sorry. I’m not good with dust.”

And there was a lot of dust. And cobwebs. She didn’t like spiders. Luckily she was walking behind Kouji, quite happy to use the mysterious new kid as a shield from any that happened to extend across the hallway. Or any surprises that would have dropped from above.

“A digimon as powerful as Vamdemon could have probably afforded a cleaning service.”, she remarked ruefully, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had been building. When they’d first arrived Tailmon had given them little tidbits, ‘This is the courtyard where Nanimon trained the recruits’ or ‘Here is where Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon caught Demidevimon in a net and hung him from the chandelier.’ But the further they went the quieter she got.

Her comment received a snort from Kouji, and nervous laughter from Hikari. Tailmon didn’t even twitch, just kept walking.

“I doubt he would care, Miyako.” Hawkmon was the only one to truly respond, “The upper halls were likely where _most_ of the Digimon lived, and any sort of effort toward cleanliness would have been situated up there. Of course with the roof mostly caved in, any remnants would have been obliterated by the elements long ago.”

“You know—why do we keep going down anyway? Shouldn’t we check the big-bad’s bedroom? You’d think that would be where he stashed everything.” That would also mean heading back up toward slightly cleaner, better ventilated spaces. She was glad she had glasses—for once—because the lenses kept most of the dust from irritating her eyes.

A shudder ran through Tailmon’s small form. She was walking at the front of the line with the other Digimon. Anyamon had offered to scout the way, but the smaller cat had just shook her head and proclaimed she knew the way. The larger cat was bringing up the rear now, keeping an eye on their trail. Miyako thought it was unnecessary—there weren’t any digimon _here_. But Kouji had insisted. He’d also insisted on bringing a sturdy branch he’d grabbed from one of the trees in the forest surrounding this place. He was currently using it as a walking stick and had looped their bags onto it, but Miyako had heard what happened from Daisuke. She didn’t approve of fighting like that. He could have gotten hurt. The digimon cared about their Chosen more than anything. If one of them were to be injured…it would…It was distracting. It was their job to keep themselves safe and give their digimon power. She remembered how she’d put herself in danger while looking for the Digimon Kaiser’s base…and what happened to Hawkmon…

 _Like I helped Hawkmon earlier?_ She looked down at her D-3, still silent and dark. Oh it had still worked when she’d chosen to armor digivolve, but…it had been so long since she’d been unable to evolve Hawkmon to Aquilamon. She clenched her fist around the device. It had to be a Dark Spire.

“Miyako…” It was Hikari’s voice that eventually broke the silence, “I think we _are_ heading to Vamdemon’s room.”

Tailmon had stopped in front of a door—wooden, with the sigil of a bat carved into it. Kouji pushed forward, shining the light from his flashlight onto the stark shape. It sent another shudder through Tailmon, who eventually nodded, “Yes. These are his chambers.”

She didn’t move to open it, her paws shaking. Hikari knelt beside her partner, squeezing Tailmon’s left paw gently, “Would you like me to carry you?”

“No…” The glove slipped out of Hikari’s grip, falling into a fist at Tailmon’s side, “I can do this. He’s _dead_.”

Her eyes hardened and she put both paws on the door and pushed, the heavy wood protesting with every inch. The darkness within seemed almost solid, stale air leaking out of the room—it was enough to make Miyako gag. It had to have been pretty darned well sealed to create _this_ kind of stagnation. She let Kouji and Anyamon lead the way, one armed with a flashlight, the other with spooky eyes she _swore_ were glowing when she saw it in her peripheral vision. Miyako and Hawkmon followed them in, leaving Hikari whispering softly to Tailmon in the doorway.

It was a large room, with two stories. They were on the upper level, and she soon joined Kouji at the stone railing that ran along the edge of the platform. The middle of the room was cut out, letting them look down into the room below. There was a large red canopy in the center—a bed? It looked almost to be one of those fancy four-posters with the heavy drapes that she always saw in english medieval fantasy dramas. Rows upon rows of dusty bookshelves ran along the walls of both floors

“Man, I didn’t know Digimon liked to read.” Miyako mumbled to herself, “If he had this many books, how did he ever find the time to take over the world?”

“I would have you know that I rather enjoy perusing your study materials every now and then—Your history texts are most intriguing.” Hawkmon peered down, “And we Digimon can be astonishingly long lived, he likely had more than enough time to wear out his library before he started planning.”

“I’m going down.” Mr. Tall Dark and Silent announced, sending Miyako scrambling for her own flashlight as all of a sudden the immediate area was plunged back into darkness. She glared at where she could see his back silhouetted against the light his flashlight was throwing against the stairs.

“A little more warning would have been nice!” She shouted back at him. Geez. He hadn’t even asked if she was done looking. Or if she would like to go along. Really. She didn’t know why they had to bring him along anyway. Hikari had said something about her brother requesting it.

She finally found the small cylindrical tube that served as her mini-flashlight and fished it out of her bag. A faint click and she had light again. It was much weaker than Kouji’s light had been, so she couldn’t see much from so high up. Apparently she had to head down as well if she wanted a better look.

Miyako glanced over her shoulder, seeing the remnants of Hikari’s light spilling from around the half-opened door frame, “Hey, Hikari, we are heading down.”

“Go on. We’ll be in in a few minutes.”

Miyako hesitated, before tossing back a confirmation. She didn’t like leaving Hikari alone out there like that. She had Tailmon, but…this place seemed to get to Tailmon. Miyako didn’t know all the History there. She knew that she’d once been this Vamdemon’s hench-kitty, but beyond that? It must have been terrible. Tailmon was one tough cookie.

With worry in her heart she trudged down the now-darkened stairs, hearing her own footsteps and Hawkmon’s talons against the rickety wooden structure. She froze at one point, balancing precariously on the edge of a step as she felt the thing creak and settle beneath her, sighing like an elderly man pushed back to work far beyond his prime.

“I…think I shall fly down, if you don’t mind.”

Hawkmon took off, hovering in midair uncertainly before gliding down into the abyss. Miyako muttered something about abandonment, before she braved the rest of the way. It didn’t protest quite as much with only her weight. They were solidly built, if very, very old. She always wondered how the Digital World seemed as old as it was, considering the Internet was only perhaps half a century, if that. Then again, Hikari and Takeru often commented on how weird it was for the two worlds to be synced up. Apparently months in the Digital World hadn’t even been a minute in the Human World during the original adventure. Who knew how many years could pass that way.

Hawkmon was waiting for her when Miyako stepped onto solid stone again. She didn’t respond to his greetings, her eyes glued to the space between the drapes. She could see inside now. Shivers ran up her spine at the coffin laying innocuously in its stone bed. The finish on the wood shimmered under her flashlight’s beam, and Miyako traced a curious gold design that was set into the dark wood. There was a difference between _knowing_ that an evil digimon was based on a vampire, and actually _seeing_ his coffin with her own eyes.

Suddenly a growl broke out from her left, set back into the darkness between the bookshelves. Anyamon? She hoped so. Although she didn’t really want to know what he was growling at.

“ _BACK!”_ A high thin voice rang out, sending Miyako spinning around to try and find it. “Back! Foul beast of Darkness! _Blinding Radiance!”_

x-x-x

The flash of light was what finally got Tailmon moving. The cat digimon only glanced back to make sure ‘Kari was heading for the stairs before she leapt from the railing, claws digging deep into the heavy red of the draperies. She looked around desperately, her vision clearing with each consecutive second she spent away from the flashlight. If some other evil digimon had moved into Vamdemon’s lair—she hadn’t even considered that. If any of the others were hurt—

There! Miyako stood over near the stairs, but Kouji and Anyamon were deeper into the shelves. They were under the overhang of the upper level. She ignored the sound of ripping fabric as she made her way down—to be completely honest, she’d often wished to take her claws to Vamdemon’s property, specifically his face—and raced to where she could see the light spilling from a dropped flashlight around the edge of the shelves, “Anyamon!”

The response was little more than a whimper, and she rounded the bookshelves to find the large cat curled into a too small ball, head tucked as far away from whatever had been the source. His eyesight was far better than hers, and even the flashlight had her eyes watering from pain. That sort of flash would have been devastating.

“Tailmon?!” That was Kouji. He was standing over Anyamon, the strange walking stick he’d been using was held out in front of him like a weapon. He didn’t see her as she came up, not even when he was looking straight at her. She was easily standing in the view of the fallen flashlight. He should see her. Blinded. That had been no ordinary light.

“I’m right here! What happened?”

“ _Taaaaaailmooooon_.” A thin voice rang out of the shelves, “ _Of course the traaaaaaitor would be here.”_

She flinched, but ignored it. Of course any of Vamdemon’s minions would call her a traitor. She wasn’t ashamed of it either.

“I don’t know.” Kouji responded through gritted teeth. His head swiveled as he tried to pinpoint the direction of that mocking voice. “K—Anyamon found something.”

“ _Traaaaitor.”_ This time it was accompanied by giggles, “ _Did the poor little kitty come sniffing after her master’s scraps? No Vamdemon. Nothing left. Poor little traitor, her master is dead.”_

“I denounced him when I found my true purpose.” Tailmon shot back, “I _helped_ kill him. If you want revenge then stop picking on Anyamon and fight with _me_. This poor little kitty still has claws.”

She flexed the wicked black points at the darkness, but was startled when it only caused more laughter.

“ _Revenge? Now why would I want revenge? My only regret is that I could not be the one to kill him!”_

A soft light began to glow along the far wall. There was a wooden box sitting on one of the cleared bookshelves. The glow was coming from the white and purple head that was rising _out_ of the box. The translucent being had pointed ears and a pointed face; it kept rising till its whole front half was outside the box. She could see the silver ring around the digimon’s neck, the purple markings running along the long white body, and the mangled ear where a small gold earring should have been.

“Kudamon…” She couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d never see one, but she’d heard of him. Kudamon wasn’t an evil digimon at all. He was another Holy Beast type. What was he doing in Vamdemon’s lair? And why did he attack Anyamon?

“ _Oh yes, Kudamon. Poor poor Kudamon, left forgotten when Vamdemon found a new plaything. A new holy digimon to corrupt. He would tell me about it, you know. What a good little_ kitty _you were. I’m not surprised to find you with this beast of_ Darkness _.”_

Kudamon spat down at Anyamon, which had Tailmon’s hackles raising, her tail lashing. No one talked to her friends like that. She had been a servant of Darkness, she admitted that. But Anyamon had no connection to this mess, “Get out of there and fight me, if that’s what you want.” She hissed. She could hear Kouji behind her, checking on Anyamon. The blinding attack must have hit Anyamon _hard_. She could hear Hikari and Miyako talking, coming closer. Good. They’d be able to help.

“ _Fight? How could poor Kudamon fight? Trapped, my Holy Ring stolen, left to_ rot _when Vamdemon left this world to destroy the light. Oh no, I do not want to fight. I want to_ die. _Die destroying the darkness!”_

He’s mad. She realized, even as she had to jump in front of the lunging ghostly weasel. Her Cat’s Paw knocked him off course, and had him springing back to his box. He hovered there, pointed teeth bared in a snarl and magenta claws snapping at the air. He’d completely ignored her—she _wasn’t_ his target.

“Kouji! ‘Kari! Miyako! Drag Anyamon around the shelves—he’s going after him.”

“ _Oh no you don’t!”_ Tailmon snapped her eyes shut as she felt the energy building, “ _Blinding Radiance!”_

The technique left the girls crying out in alarm. The worst of it should be blocked by the shelves, but they’d be seeing spots. She didn’t know why he’d use it again. It wasn’t an attack, merely a blind. It shouldn’t do any damage—

“Anyamon!” She could hear Kouji, blindly trying to drag his fallen partner. She could hear the renewed struggling of the other cat digimon, and his growing whimpers and snarls of alarm—

It’s hurting him. Somehow, the attack of pure light was _hurting_ Anyamon. She had to stop him from casting it again until Kouji managed to get clear. She waited, eyes closed, ears pricked—The whistle of moving air, of a barely-there body slithering through the space before her, beside her—she pounced! Black claws bit into solid fur, and Kudamon gave a strangled cry. She could feel him recoiling again, trying to retreat to the safety of the shelves, but she refused to let him. So long as he was manifested, she could hold him. And he couldn’t disappear so long as she was holding him.

“Just stop this!” She hissed, “We are here looking for clues. Clues to where Vamdemon found the Crest of Light. If you were half as holy as you claim to be, you’d help us! If you won’t, then just—just—shut up and leave us alone.”

She felt the struggling still under her, and she risked peeking her eyes open again. She had Kudamon pinned to the ground by the neck. Narrowed eyes were glaring up at her, filled with hate and pain and—something else that scared her.

 _“Did you think you were special? That you were the only one Vamdemon abused?”_ Kudamon hissed at her _, “His coffin must be littered with his trophies. You were merely the last of many. The only one to_ give in _._ You _led him to the Crest, Tailmon. I’m surprised you aren’t a_ BlackTailmon _.”_

All of a sudden those sharp teeth were digging into her neck, pain and shock and fear drilling into Tailmon as she struggled to break his grip. She yowled, drawing startled shouts from Hikari.

“Hey you! Let her go!” Her vision was going fuzzy. She couldn’t breathe. Time seemed to slow as she saw Hikari come around the shelf, Kouji’s trusty stick in her hands. “Let her go now!”

Hikari was so beautiful. So kind. So wonderful. In Tailmon’s dimming vision she seemed to almost glow.

The pressure on her neck eased, sharp points retreating.

Everything went black.


	13. A Past Best Forgotten

Hikari cradled Tailmon in her arms, whispering sweet nothings to the beat up cat digimon. She’d torn strips of cloth off of her shirt to bandage the wounds that littered Tailmon’s neck, and just kept listening to the digimon’s at first fitful, and then gradually stabilizing breaths.

Kouji sat on the floor with his back against the shelves, Anyamon’s head pillowed on his lap as he methodically stroked the great cat’s neck. He still couldn’t see, Miyako knew. She could stand in front of him in a bikini doing the hula and he wouldn’t even bat an eye. He’d taken the full brunt of Kudamon’s Brilliant Radiance—Hawkmon figured it would take some time before his vision was back to normal.

Speaking of Kudamon, Miyako glared back at the box sitting innocently on the shelf. Her job was to stand guard and make sure the little bugger didn’t try anything else while the others recovered. Hawkmon was currently using Hikari’s flashlight to study the box, and Miyako was there to make sure that the deranged lunatic didn’t go after Hawkmon the way he did Tailmon.

But there hadn’t been a peep from the box ever since Hikari had gotten the weasel to retreat—and how the girl had done it Miyako had no idea. Neither did Hikari. Once she’d stopped fussing over Tailmon—a break that didn’t last long—she’d admitted she’d kinda just yelled and waved a stick at him.

There was a hacking sound from behind her, where the others were sitting. Miyako whirled around. Tailmon was coughing, her small body twitching painfully. The fit lasted only a few minutes, but those minutes seemed to stretch on forever for those watching. Miyako let out a breath when Tailmon collapsed back into Hikari’s arms, only a slit of blue glittering in the light spilling from the flashlight, “That was…one heck…of a furball.”

“Tailmon…” Hikari let out a relieved sob and clutched the limp cat to her chest. It had been nearly an hour since Tailmon had lost consciousness. The cat hissed, her paws spasming to clutch onto Hikari’s arms, “Not…so…tight.”

Her voice was hoarse, but that was to be expected. She’d nearly had her windpipe crushed.

Hikari loosened her grip, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. “Sorry. But—I’ve got something for you! Here!” She used the hand to rummage through her bag, drawing Tailmon’s weakened attention.

“Is it…catnip?”

“No…” Although Miyako was kicking herself from not thinking of catnip. Tailmon had found some of the herb for Hawkmon when he’d been poisoned. The least they could have done was try and return the favor. Hikari pulled a slightly crushed packet from her bag, one of the few she’d saved back before they left, “I know it’ll be tough…but you need to get your energy back.”

It helped that digimon seemed to miraculously heal after some rest and food. Tailmon eyed the snack before shaking her head, sinking back into Hikari’s arms. She closed her eyes, “Give it…to Anyamon. I’ll be…fine in a…minute.”

“He already had some.” Hikari opened the packaging, tearing off a small bit of the bun, “Come on, Tailmon. Just a little. It’s your favorite.”

Taiyaki. It was a fish-shaped cake, filled with red bean paste. Miyako remembered. She always picked up some for Tailmon. She knew all of the digimon’s favorites. Poromon loved the rice snacks, especially the ones with wasabi peas. Upamon got hooked on liquid yogurts after Iori’s granddad got Iori eating them. Patamon loved sharing his dango with Takeru, and they’d always split a stick of them. Chibimon loved anything sweet, although his eyes would light up if she brought him chocolate covered waffles…

Miyako shook away the thoughts as she heard Hawkmon coming up beside her. He cleared his throat, getting the attention of everyone quite easily, “It would be a wise idea to eat, Tailmon. We are in no danger now, but we must return to our task eventually. Kudamon cannot leave the box. Not with the wards and runes carved onto the shelving around it. I surmise those runes are keeping Kudamon’s holy cartridge secure, and he cannot leave without it. I took the liberty of checking the coffin while you were out—” That escapade had had Miyako’s hair on end the entire time—checking a _coffin?_ She was just glad there wasn’t a body inside!“—and while there does not appear to be any trophies, it isn’t the resting place we’d thought it was. There’s a false bottom, and a staircase leading down.”

“We need…to go down there.” Tailmon muttered in between nibbling on the Taiyaki. She slowly got less shaky as the treat was eaten, bit by tiny bite. At length she got halfway through it before she shook her head and pushed it away. Hikari didn’t protest this time, wrapping the remainder in the wrapper and replacing it in her bag. She used shaking arms to prop herself up, worried eyes finding Anyamon quickly, “And Anyamon?”

“Better.” The larger digimon rumbled, eyes cracking open a slit. Amber glittered in the light from the flashlights, “He never hit me. The light _burned_ , but…” He trailed off when Kouji’s fists clutched at his fur.

“Of course it burned. Anyamon’s supposed to be nocturnal.” Kouji took a breath, letting the anger out in a heavy sigh, “I hate sitting here. So close to…that. After what he did.”

Miyako understood the frustration, so she decided she would forgive him for the snapped comment. She stretched, putting her hand on her hip and hoisting her bag onto her shoulder, “Well. He’s not going anywhere. If Anyamon can walk we can keep looking. Hikari can carry Tailmon until she can walk on her own—without falling over.” She had to add that last bit as Tailmon started to protest. The cat stopped, her eyes sinking to look at her shaking paws. “Yeah, I thought so. Don’t worry. Hawkmon and I will take care of everything.”

“Indeed. I doubt we shall find much else in such a long abandoned place, but I will do my best to protect you all.” He made a small bow, getting a smile from Hikari, if not the others.

“I can walk.” Anyamon was pushing to his feet, unsteady at first. He ducked to catch Kouji’s flailing arm as his blinded partner sought to find something to support him. Miyako’s eyes went to the stick left leaning against the bookshelf; almost forgotten. After a moment she grabbed it, passing it to the unsteady boy. He’d managed to get to his feet with Anyamon’s help, but moving was going to be awkward. Especially steps. And regardless of which way they went, there would be steps.

“Here. This might help.”

He took the staff, hands tightening painfully against the rough wood. “Thanks.” The word was rough, but Miyako couldn’t help a small smirk. He was prickly, but not a total jerk.

x-x-x

Tailmon refused to be carried like a baby. She was only satisfied when Hikari compromised, and let Tailmon ride on her shoulder. Her paw still shook as she tangled it in Hikari’s hair, her tail swaying as she fought to keep her balance. Miyako and Hawkmon were heading down the narrow stairs first, and then after that Anyamon would guide Kouji. Hikari wanted to wait and let them go first, so if something happened she could try and steady Kouji from behind. Tailmon didn’t know why they bothered. The human had good balance—very cat-like, she approved—and Anyamon wouldn’t let him fall.

The bandage around her neck itched, and Tailmon wanted to tear it off. But she restrained herself, knowing it would worry Hikari.

A laugh echoed from behind them. From within the bookshelves. It was faint—she doubted anyone else would hear it. Maybe Anyamon, if he was listening.

She glanced back, but couldn’t see anything. No faint glow, no flash of white, nothing.

That didn’t stop the mocking words from reaching her.

_“A traitor twice over. You bring Darkness to the light even now, little kitten…”_

Darkness. Why did he keep saying that? And why was he so fixated on Anyamon?

She shut out the fading giggles, focusing on following the black form ahead of her with her eyes as they slowly started down the stairs. It was steady, careful going. Anyamon would take the step, and then guide Kouji’s staff to settle on the one below it, giving him an idea of how far it was. The cat never left his partner’s side. Never moved from under that trusting hand.

Sure Anyamon felt _different_ in a way that she couldn’t explain. He could see well in the dark. He was quiet. The light had burned him in a way it shouldn’t have…

She couldn’t get over that tidbit. He should have been blinded by the first one, just as his partner was. Maybe it would hurt. It would probably hurt pretty badly, given how sensitive his eyes were, but that second time…

The second time, his eyes were already closed. So…why did he cry out?

She shook it off, as Hikari took one step, and then another, occasionally reaching out to steady Kouji if he wobbled. Kudamon was just trying to mess with her mind. That had to be it. He’d seen a dark colored digimon in Vamdemon’s castle—and he was more than a little mad—and that was it. For all she knew someone could have stepped on Anyamon’s tail, and _that_ was why he cried out.

“It’s not very deep!” Hawkmon’s partner’s voice echoed from below them. The sudden shout caused Kouji to miss a step, teeter, and almost lose his balance. But the staff caught and held him, Anyamon guiding him back to the correct step.

“Be careful.” Hikari whispered, hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Tailmon saw him stiffen at the touch, but grunted an acknowledgement, “I can see Miyako’s light. We are almost there.”

The last few steps were the hardest, especially since Kouji started to get irritated with the slow pace, “I’m blind, not an invalid.” He hissed at both Anyamon and Hikari, who refused to let him go any faster.

“By all means, take that next step.” Tailmon remarked, “I’m sure it will be much faster for all of us if you tumble the rest of the way.”

She saw him bristle at that, but he quieted. Honestly _he_ seemed to be more like Akemon than Anyamon was. She’d used a similar argument on the wolf, and he’d reacted in the exact same manner.

But…digimon changed. That was the way of it.

“Here we are.”

The narrow stairwell opened up to a larger chamber, one that was completely dark save for the thin beam of light from Miyako’s flashlight. Two more soon joined it, lighting up the small, square stone storage room. Suddenly the world exploded in dazzling gold as each beam was reflected this way and that off dozens of golden trinkets, throwing that reflected light up on the ceiling, the walls, and the faces of the children.

“Ooooooh! How beautiful!” Miyako knelt down and snatched up one of the golden rings, slipping it over her glove and admiring the way it sparkled under her flashlight, “How does it loo—”

“Drop it!” Tailmon hissed, surprising even herself as she jumped off Hikari’s shoulder and knocked the too big ring off the human’s wrist. Her landing was more of a tumble, but she’d caught the ring and set it down reverently.

“Hey, what gives?” Miyako was rubbing her wrist, inspecting some tearing where Tailmon’s swipe had cut into the leather of the glove.

“You shouldn’t touch them.” Tailmon looked out over the pile of rings, some larger, some as small as…an earring.

She remembered Kudamon’s torn ear. A ragged, long healed mess where a small gold earring should have been. She clenched her paws. Evil. Vamdemon was an _evil_ bastard.

_His coffin must be littered with his trophies. You were merely the last of many._

She tentatively ran a claw over one ring—it was familiar. She’d worn hers around her neck too, when she had been Plotmon. And that one over there, she knew it belonged to a Tapirmon, gently clasping it on the foreleg. There was even one with a green stone dangling from it—the digimon it had once belonged to long since lost as a legend—Liollimon.

And that…that small one, peeking out from under the green stone made the loss of her own ache oh so much. She’d grown used to the weakness. It had been months since that fateful day when she’d dodged Unimon’s attack, only to find out she’d lost her own Holy Ring in the scuffle. With it, went most of her power. With it, went a part of herself. If it hadn’t been for ‘Kari…she might have become a Black Tailmon.

“That one looks like your tail ring.” Hikari had come to kneel down beside her, and Tailmon realized she had picked it up, and was holding it gently in her claws.

“They are Holy Rings.” Tailmon whispered, turning it over and over in her claws, “When I lost mine…I lost my power. Kudamon said Vamdemon _took_ his. That there had been others.”

She clenched her paws, she could feel her fur standing on end, she was so _angry_. So sad. So many rings. She knew she wasn’t the only Tailmon in this world, as surely as she held this small ring in her hand. The bandage itched at her—somewhere in here was Kudamon’s earring. Somewhere in here was what Vamdemon had stolen from him.

“He knew the chosen of Light would be his downfall.” She hissed, “How did he find the crest? I never wondered. The Chosen of Light would have a Holy Digimon. He just had to find the right _one._ ”

But he hadn’t known it was her, that day he’d caught her. He’d been surprised. Delighted that he no longer had to search for the eighth digimon. He hadn’t taken her ring because she’d been broken. She’d been his pet kitty. His own little Holy Digimon, doing his evil bidding.

So angry, it boiled within her. She almost wished he were alive, just so she could be the one to kill him this time. It was a hot rage, giving her weakened body strength. She felt stronger. Stronger than she had ever been, even _with_ her Holy Ring. If her anger gave her this much power…

“Tailmon…” Hikari whispered, “Your tail…”

What about it? Tailmon glanced over her shoulder, her heart stopping at the black creeping out from where her Holy Ring should have been. It was spreading, from one band of purple to another. No!

Hikari’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. The warmth quenched the burning anger. It swept aside the hate that had been poisoning her. Against Hikari’s light, the darkness held no power. She buried her face in Hikari’s embrace, not wanting to look at the stain on her tail. It had stopped growing, but that black mark stared out at her—accusatory.

“How could he?” She whispered, still holding another Tailmon’s Holy Ring. “These contain the data of digimon. The _souls_ of digimon. They _can’t_ have been reborn like this. They _can’t…_ ”

“We’ll take them to Primary Village.” Hikari promised soothingly, “Elecmon will know what to do. Maybe we can help them.”

“Maybe…”

x-x-x

There was only one thing in the room. Only one thing other than the abandoned Holy Rings. Hikari shuffled through the cards uneasily. Plotmon. Tailmon. Tapirmon. Liollimon. Kudamon. She only knew Plotmon and Tailmon. She barely caught a glimpse of Kudamon. She’d never seen the others. They’d been tucked in a small wooden chest in the corner of the room. Tailmon had taken one look at them and turned her face up toward the stairs. “The Gate Room.” She said simply.

That had led to another adventure up the stairs, leaving the golden tomb behind them. Tailmon had stopped in front of Kudamon’s shelf, silent for a moment before making a solemn promise.

“I _will_ be back. I will return your earring. We will make things _right.”_

“ _Nothing will make things right, little traitor._ Nothing.”

She hadn’t responded, merely tightening her paw around the other Tailmon’s ring. Hikari didn’t know why she was carrying it, but Tailmon seemed to have forgotten that she even had it.

Now they were walking again. Down and down into the depths of the castle. Hikari kept shuffling the cards, feeling helpless. Hating the situation. Tailmon—her Tailmon was hurting. And Hikari didn’t know how to fix it.

“Here we are…” Tailmon murmured, stopping before a large metal door. It moved very, very reluctantly, creaking and complaining with every inch it gave up. Even Kouji was helping. His vision hadn’t cleared up yet, but he seemed too stubborn to let that stop him. As soon as they’d cleared the steps he’d stubbornly refused her offered arm, clinging to the staff and his pride. It would have made Hikari laugh at any other time, but it just didn’t seem a time for laughter right now.

The cavernous room opened up before them, their flashlights lighting up only a tiny shaft of space, a tiny ray of light piercing the darkness. It was empty, yawning, echoing with every step they took. Tailmon led the way. Silent.

Hikari kept her flashlight on the floor ahead, but Miyako’s wandered. She squeaked in surprise as the thin beam flashed across a demonic stone face. Tailmon paused, stopping to look up at the statue looming out of the darkness. “Devidramon. Don’t worry. He won’t wake up.”

“Wake up!? You mean that thing is alive?!” Miyako choked, keeping her light trained on the statue. She refused to look away from it, even when Kouji snorted, “If you keep yelling, perhaps we shall find out.”

“Oh be quiet! It’s not like you can even see it.” Miyako snapped back, but her hand was shaking, sending the light dancing over the hulking stone digimon. Four eyes glared down at them, the huge beast was couched along the wall, elongated forelegs and tattered wings giving it a grotesque look. The Digimon Kaiser used to ride around on one of those things, and Hikari shivered at remembering its red glare.

“It’s fine. It was sealed away. Only Holy Power would free it.” Tailmon just shook her head and began walking again. Miyako shivered and hurried after her. Hikari frowned, and tapped Kouji on the shoulder when he didn’t seem to move. He startled, and then grumbled, moving along after the others and their digimon.

“You didn’t need to say that.” Hikari told him quietly, “It’s just how she is.”

The steady tap, tap of the stick against the floor was the only response she got. Hikari sighed. The action seemed to catch Anyamon’s attention. He’d been stalking beside his partner, but he peeled off and dropped back to her side.

“Don’t mind him, please…” Anyamon ducked his head, “He hates being helpless.”

“I know.” Hikari shook her head, “Something about this world seems to get under his skin.”

She smiled down at Anyamon, ruffling the fur around his ears fondly. He tended to keep to himself most of the time, but… “He’s lucky to have a good partner like you to watch out for him.”

x-x-x

Tailmon stopped the group in front of a stone alter. Tailmon remembered this place. She knew the door that waited in the darkness beyond. It was metal, old and worn, intricately carved with random designs and probably quite a few digital runes. It stretched from floor to ceiling of the massive cavern, looming above them all. Looming above Vamdemon’s army. They’d all marched unerringly toward the light, when the Chosen had surprised them from behind. Tailmon had stood in that doorway and laughed as the door closed on all their hopes and dreams.

“This is the Gate.” She said quietly, “Here Vamdemon stepped into the Human World for the first time. He used a set of cards on that pedestal there.” She nodded her head at the stone block jutting out right in front of them. Hikari took her flashlight and shown it on the top. A three by three grid was carved into the top, with symbols running along the edges.

Tailmon watched as she fiddled with the small pile of cards, placing the flashlight gingerly on the edge of the pedestal. She fanned them out, looking at them each in turn. Only five. There were nine slots. “We must be missing some. There aren’t enough.”

“And we aren’t going to the Human World, anyway.” Miyako cut in, peering over Hikari’s shoulder, “I mean I understand checking this place out since we found those weird cards, but…what good are they?”

“If a _magic_ door has multiple sets of keys, wouldn’t it stand to reason there would be multiple _destinations_ as well?” Kouji’s remark only had a smattering of sarcasm in it. He was leaning against his staff, foot tapping impatiently. Miyako shot him a glare, but Hikari let out a sigh of relief when the other girl let it go. They looked back to the cards in Hikari’s hands. Hawkmon was the one to speak up next.

“If I remember the story correctly, we only have one shot at this.” The red bird remarked rather matter of fact-ly. “Once it opens, there’s no way back.”

“Maybe…we shouldn’t then…” Hikari hesitated. Everyone was watching her. Everyone…except for Kouji. He was staring off into space, head tilted, as if listening.

Then he shook his head violently and stepped forward, snatching blindly at one of the cards in her hand. His grab was eerily accurate, snatching one easily out of the hastily scattered cards. He didn’t even give her a chance to protest, slapping the card haphazardly into the center square. “That one.”

Hikari looked from the cards scattered on the ground, a couple lost to the darkness outside their ring of light, to the one laying face on the stone. “How do you know?”

He didn’t say anything. He merely flipped it over. Tailmon sucked in a sharp breath as the doors creaked open, grinding metal against stone. She heard more than just Anyamon’s hiss of pain as light bathed the room—everyone had become used to the low-light of the castle, and the sudden glare felt like someone was stabbing behind her eyes. She didn’t have to look at the card on the pedestal. She knew which one it was.

“You led him to the Crest.” Tailmon whispered to herself, her blue eyes glowing in the light shining from the doorway. “I remember now!”

The exalted shout faded away, leading to horror, “I remember now…”

The light dimmed, becoming manageable. A stone wall stood between the open gates. The Holy Ring she’d been holding for so long fell out of her suddenly limp grasp, falling to the floor with a merry tinkle as it bounced and rolled along the stones. A pentagram was carved into the stone, one of Vamdemon’s evil spells. On each corner, a golden spike was hammered into the solid stone, tarnished red and angry. She remembered. She _remembered._

 _“We need Holy Power”_ Vamdemon had said, with that infuriating smirk on his face. Tailmon hadn’t asked where he’d gotten the Holy Rings. She hadn’t wanted to know. He would have gladly told her, but deep in that corner of herself she’d managed to keep, she had _not_ wanted to know.

They’d been melted down, the stolen power of many other Holy Digimon. Melted down and forged into stakes. Spikes, carved with Vamdemon’s spell runes, meant to trick the crest into believing its chosen had found it at last. At the time she’d only been glad it wasn’t _her_ ring he’d used. She hadn’t wondered where they had come from.

She knew now. She remembered. She remembered walking up to the wall, where a star glittered contently, patiently waiting. It had seemed so inviting. Calling to her. Vamdemon had given her the tag. It pulled at her paw, pulling her forward.

“Tailmon!”

Hikari’s voice snapped her out of the memory, but it was so far away. Tailmon shook her head—why was ‘Kari over there? And why did she feel so…unsteady?

“Get away from there! Tailmon!” Hikari was running now. Running toward…her? Why? Hadn’t she just been standing next to her?

Others were running now, following Hikari. Tailmon moved to turn around, to ask what was going on, but something stopped her. She teetered on an edge, her balance precarious. There was a rumbling, and the walls seemed to be closing in. The walls—the doors! With a start Tailmon realized she was standing in between the doors. A wild look around proved that the spikes were glittering around her, a giant gaping hole where the crest had once been. She turned to run. To dash—anything! But there was a vice grip on her arms. Translucent, but very real blue and red striped gloves wrapped around her paws, dark black claws digging into her fur, and the skin beyond.

Glittering gold eyes stared at her, accusing and triumphant all at once.

“ _Traitor.”_

The Black Tailmon whispered and fell, dragging Tailmon into the Abyss with her.


	14. Through Darkness to Light

The light seared into his mind, cutting through the blackness that had been clouding his vision. It was almost painful, a lance of brightness in a dark world. He could hear Hikari yelling for Tailmon—hear the slapping of her shoes on stone as she sped toward the source of the light. Honestly, he didn’t know what had possessed him to run after her. The walking stick fell from his nerveless hand, and he didn’t feel uncertain or unsteady at all charging into a blinding light amidst shadows. He heard Kouichi yelling at him. Heard Miyako yelling for Hikari. And then he heard _laughter_. Familiar laughter. But where from? _Where?_

He didn’t know where he was. It was black. Everything was black. Up, down, left, right—nothing but darkness. The last clear memory was the sound of heavy metal shuddering to a halt, settling into a giant stone frame. And then the light he’d been following had been snuffed out. And he’d been thrown back into darkness.

 _I am getting_ sick _of darkness._ He couldn’t help the bitter edge to his thoughts. He’d _finally_ been able to see something, even if it had only been the difference between light and dark. He didn’t even have his flashlight—not that a blind man with a flashlight wouldn’t have been much use. He’d given it to Miyako since her weak little one wouldn’t be much good. He couldn’t hear Hikari anymore. Her voice had been cut off mid-shout by the slamming of the doors. Had he been too late?

But no. He’d heard the doors close _behind_ him. And he’d lost track of the other voices too. Where ever he was, he was alone.

 _Is this the trial?_ The thought crept through his mind, unbidden. If the Trial of Courage had required Kouichi to face his fears... This was the Crest of _Light._ Hikari would be fine. She had both the Digimental _and_ had been the bearer of the Crest—like Daisuke and Taichi she would likely get a free pass. He wasn’t sure how he would fare in a Trial of Light, being unable to see.

Kouji groped for his D-Scanner. He may not be one of this world’s chosen, but he _was_ the Warrior of Light. The device was a reassuring weight in his jacket, and he fished it out. The curves were familiar against his palm, and he knew what to do—even if he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.

He reached for Wolfmon, summoning the digicode with a twist of will. A chunk of his vision lightened, and Kouji imagined he could see the code, its little bits and bytes glowing, dancing—he could _feel_ it there. It was a warmth he’d never noticed before—a hand reaching out for his, offering assistance if he’d only just ask.

He could scan it—his digivice was active, he could feel Wolfmon’s power sitting _just_ out of reach—but…he hesitated. He held the code there, the swirling digicode spiraling about his outstretched hand.

No. It didn’t feel right. Slowly, he loosened his grip on the power, releasing it back to the D-Scanner. He _knew_ this was the Trial of Light. Just like he’d _known_ where the cards were in Hikari’s hand. Just as he’d _known_ exactly which one to pick and where to put it.

This was a Trial, and he had to pass it on his own. Otherwise…

He regretted the decision as soon as the light from the code faded away, but he’d made it. Kouji stuffed his hands into his jacket’s pockets; fingers curled tightly around the curves of the digivice, and started to move.

The ground gave way beneath him; the sudden shifting and sliding almost lead him to lose his balance. It felt strange. He was on a hill. He could feel the incline with each step he took—but it was unstable, bits and pieces dislodging with each step. His steps sent his feet sinking deep into the ground, small gritty pellets wriggled their way into his socks, both irritating and enlightening at once.

He was walking on sand.

Sand usually meant one of two things. A desert. Or a beach.

There. It was faint. Muffled, as if he was only hearing it from some great distance, but it was there.

Waves. They were the sound of waves.

As he continued down the sandy slope—a dune, probably—he began to notice a faint light in the distance. It pulsed slowly, there, and then gone. There. Then it faded. Then it came back again. A never-ending cycle. It was irritating, but it was _light_. He angled his path towards the only point of reference he had. This new direction had him walking along the dune, rather than stumbling down it toward the waves. What could it be? That pattern of light tickled a memory, but he couldn’t recall what exactly it had been.

A beach. A light on the beach. One that he could only keep in sight if he lifted his head as he approached it. That meant it was tall, far taller than he.

A lighthouse. He’d seen them in films, mostly.

He didn’t know how far it was, or how he knew—but he had reached it. He hadn’t been able to see the light for some time—it was far, far above him. The door was head of him. He imagined he could almost see it. It was a decently tall door, wooden with a semicircular type top rather than a square cut one. He held that image in his mind, reaching out for the brass handle, his hand curled around cold metal, and he stiffened. That handle was the _exact_ size and shape as he’d thought it was. Quickly he felt around the edges, estimating the size and the shape of the door itself.

An exact. Match.

“So. You do listen, occasionally.”

Kouji flinched, whirling around to put his back to the door. He wished he still had his staff, but he didn’t. He grabbed his D-Scanner, willing the spirits to respond.

There was a snort from the direction of that voice. One of amusement? Derision? “Who are you?” Kouji snapped out in irritation. Of course the trial wouldn’t be that easy. Finding a light in the dark was nothing compared to what Kouichi had to deal with.

“I refuse to answer a question you know the answer to.” The voice answered, the matter of fact tone only grating on Kouji’s already frayed nerves. “You know me almost _too_ well. It was hard enough to get you this far _without_ you shoving me away.”

_Why walk alone?_

“You--!” Kouji hissed. He’d heard it aloud many times, even if he’d only known it once. He’d been the one speaking with it, “What is going on? What are you doing here?”

“Helping.” A patch of light began to grow in his vision, shyly coalescing into a humanoid figure before him. Kouji was thrown off at first—he had been expecting blue eyes and white fur, a lupine face—not…not to come face to face with himself. He didn’t even understand _how_ he could see the doppelganger—everything else was still clouded in shadow. “You’ve been so stubborn about it that I’ve needed to be subtle. We don’t do subtle very well.”

There were slight…very slight differences. Kouji began to notice, fixated on the doppelganger before him. The eyes were a slightly lighter shade of blue. The skin a little paler. But the largest difference was the pale hair peeking out from beneath the blue and brown bandana, which was still pulled back into Kouji’s usual pony tail. A grey and blue scarf was wrapped around the other’s shoulders, hiding half his face. Kouji’s fists clenched, “Why do you look like that, Akemon _?_ ”

“You know that isn’t my name right now.” The glare being returned was steady. Identical to the one he was leveling on the digimon.

“ _Akemon.”_ Kouji repeated firmly. Of course he knew that a digimon’s name changed to reflect its form, but he wasn’t willing to concede _that._

“Hmph. Fine.” Akemon folded his arms, “Don’t mind the fact that you are _blind_. That you are lost amidst The Dark Ocean. Don’t mind that I have been leading you here, to the Tower of Light, since you decided to _listen_ to me for once and picked the damn card.”

Kouji didn’t believe it for a second. _He_ had been the one to pick the card. There had been no voice. No presence. He didn’t know what Akemon was trying to accomplish with this…charade. _Kouji_ had been the one to chase after Hikari. Kouji had been the one to find the tower.

“And what, exactly, do you think my name _is_ right now?”

Kouji snapped, “Stay out of my mind!”

“After you’ve been careful to lock me up in there, that’s a rather counter-intuitive thing to say.” The other rolled his eyes and adjusted his bandana, letting some stray strands of grey fall free. Seeing the loose hair surrounding his face unnerved Kouji, but it seemed to ease some of the tension out of Akemon’s stance, “I am a digimon. I am not some dog to come when you call, and then wait patiently when you dismiss me. We _change._ Not just in body. You _know_ this. You felt it in Wolfmon. In Garmmon.”

“And _they_ don’t seem to be trying to take over. Not like Duskmon.” _Or you._ Kouji added silently, although given the sudden flash of anger that broke through the cool mask Kouji had perfected, the digimon had even heard that thought too. “Don’t deny it. As a digimon I can _still_ barely keep you separate, and now apparently you are trying to influence me as a human.”

“You know _nothing._ ” Akemon hissed, “You can hardly tell us apart _because_ we are one. I become you. You become me. Wolfmon—Garmmon—all of them…they existed _before_ you. They are dead and gone, impressions and power left behind for those who needed them. _Akemon_ was created _for_ you. _I_ was created for you. There wouldn’t even _be_ an _I_ here if you weren’t being so damn stubborn about keeping us apart!”

The… _other_ took a deep breath, exhaling noisily in a way Kouji _knew_ better than anyway. He was trying to push away the anger. There was pain. Kouji could feel it. Anger masked the pain, but it was there, roiling and lashing against everything, buried so deep—a son lashing out against his Father, who remarried so soon, and against his step-mother, who _dared_ to try and take _her_ place.

His will buckled, but didn’t break. Akemon shook his head, “The bitterest part out of all of this is that _I understand._ You think you don’t need me. That you don’t need anyone. You think that I am an intruder. That I am going to warp you. Change you, the way Cherubimon warped my brother.”

_My brother?_

Either Akemon didn’t hear him, or he ignored him. “Is it so bad, to enjoy my brother’s comfort? Is it evil to be happy? Is it a shame to be overwhelmed by an entirely new world? Is it a crime to be tired and hurting, as I worked together with my brother to free him from Duskmon’s touch?”

“I am _human_. Not digimon. I refuse to lose who I am.” Kouji didn’t know what else to say. Akemon snorted bitterly, “Of course. I really shouldn’t bother. You want none of it.”

The digimon made a sharp motion with his hand, and Kouji heard the door unlock behind him. Old, rusty hinges creaked as it swung open.

“Remain blind, then. _Master_. You shall not see me again.”

x-x-x

Hikari cradled Tailmon gently in her arms, eyes shut and face buried in her fur. She didn’t want to see it, even as the image remained burned into her memory. The Black Tailmon had been trying to finish what Kudamon had begun, leaving scratches and scrapes all along Tailmon’s body. Where their paws had touched, splotches of blackness marred the normally pristine fur. One gloved paw was alien all together—a dark blue with angry red stripes snaking through it like veins.

“It’s okay, Tailmon.” She whispered, only the presence of the weight and body in her arms proof that Tailmon hadn’t dissolved into a cloud of data, “I chased them off. It’ll be okay.”

Tailmon didn’t stir. Hikari feared she had come too late. The pink light from her digivice had led her here. Here to the Dark Ocean. Here to the lighthouse that had once burned black, but was now a shining ray of light, cutting through the darkness of this dreary place. She knew it wasn’t that exact beach. That exact cape, where the lighthouse had housed a Dark Spire. But when she saw the grey sand. The black water. The grey sky… it made her blood run cold.

The Black Tailmon had fled at her pink light, leaving Tailmon battered and broken on the pedestal in the center of the lighthouse. They never should have come to this wretched place. Never should have come to Vamdemon’s castle. Why did Kouji have to the pick the card to open the gate? Why?

Hikari flinched as a door slammed, echoing through the round chamber. She curled protectively around Tailmon. She didn’t have anything she could use as a weapon even if she’d wanted to. Her body was a shield. Her only shield, should those Black Tailmon return.

Footsteps. She counted them, slow and deliberate, moving down the hall. It was just one set. Far heavier than the Tailmon had been. She peeked her eyes open, waiting, watching. The hall wasn’t long, but she wasn’t angled correctly to see down it. The steps were taking a longer time than they should have needed to cross the space. A hand appeared, clutching the edge of the wall, and then it groped blindly at the empty space beyond. The blue-sleeved arm pulled back, and Hikari could hear a familiar voice cursing at his luck. She uncurled, “Kouji!”

Her voice seemed to echo unending in this round room, bouncing off one and then another. The returning “Hikari…?” Filled her with hope. She thought she’d been alone. The doors had been closing as she’d bolted for them. She’d thought for sure none of the others would be able to catch up in time.

The echoes in the room gave him pause, but the boy managed to make his way toward her, one hand trailing along the curved wall of the room to give him stability. He was alone. It felt so wrong to see him without Anyamon at his side. She almost expected the large cat to just melt out of the shadows next, brushing up against her just to see her jump.

But there was nothing. Kouji slid down to sit on the floor behind her, his head leaning back against the cold stone of the wall. He looked pale, and was even…shaking. She could see his hands trembling where he’d placed them on his lap.

She hesitantly shifted Tailmon in her arms, her heart skipping a beat at the faint groan the action elicited from the digimon. That had been the first sign of…well… _anything._ But it didn’t last, Tailmon drifting away again.

Hikari stroked the cat’s ears, before moving the hand she’d freed up to lightly touch Kouji’s shaking hand. “Are you okay?”

He nearly jumped at her touch, eyes flying open and body subconsciously jerking away from her. The action drew a gasp from Hikari, her hand tightening around his.

“K-kouji.”

“W-what?” He responded gruffly. He was looking in her general direction, but straight past her. She knew he’d been blinded by Kudamon’s attack but…this?

“Your eyes…” She struggled to figure out how to explain it. They weren’t looking at her, but she could see it. What had once been a dark blue had darkened even further. They were pitch-black now, the pupil and the iris almost seeming to blend together in one unseeing disk. Even back in Vamdemon’s castle they had still been blue, if a little clouded and unfocused. Here they just looked…dead…

“I think I pissed off the one who was supposed to fix it.” Kouji grunted in response, covering his eyes with his palms, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He stayed that way for a few moments, head in his hands and just _breathing._ With each breath the shaking faded, until he straightened back up and jerked his head in her direction, “What about her?”

He didn’t need to specify. Tailmon’s ragged breathing was the only other sound in the room. Hikari gently smoothed the digimon’s fur, “I chased off the Black Tailmon…but she won’t wake up.”

There was no need to mention to creeping black stains. No need to mention that if Hikari would check her eyes—which she _wouldn’t—_ one would be gold instead of blue.

“Probably just needs some rest. She was still weak from earlier.” Kouji grunted, “Where are we? What kind of room?”

Hikari wanted to be mad. She wanted to be angry about how… _dismissively_ he was acting about Tailmon’s condition. But she couldn’t bring herself to be. It wasn’t like she could do more than she was—trying to make sure Tailmon was comfortable. He _was_ right. Tailmon needed rest. And the best way to get that was to leave this place and go home. For that, they needed to figure out where they were.

And he couldn’t see. She didn’t _have_ the luxury of curling up like a little girl and yelling that it wasn’t fair. He was all the help Tailmon would get, and _he_ needed _her_ help.

“It’s…round. About the size of the computer lab at school.” She started, casting her eyes around the room. She hadn’t bothered to explore it much, “There are pictures all along the walls. Symbols. They look like some type of writing, but I don’t recognize them. There’s a pedestal standing in the center, and most of the light in the room comes from above it. I’d assume it’s from the lighthouse.”

“Thought so.” Kouji muttered, pushing himself clumsily to his feet. He teetered once, needing to lean against the wall to get his bearings, “I could feel the carvings in the wall. It’s exactly the same as the room where we found the Sanctum of Courage.”

He pushed away from the wall without warning, walking with as much dignity as he could muster while still needing to grope through the darkness. He was so stiff-backed and proud. Hikari grabbed his hand, wordlessly placing it down on the alter. He didn’t thank her, instead began tracing the stone pedestal with his fingers. He found the depression and tapped on it, “Place your Digimental here, and it should activate your digivice. It should open a door somewhere along the wall. Even if it has been trashed, there will be a portal that should let us out near the castle.”

“Could you…could you hold Tailmon?” She needed both her D-3 and her D-Terminal. She needed both her hands. Kouji didn’t say anything, but his hands were firm, but gentle as Hikari carefully shifted her digimon off her shoulder and into his arms. He held the cat as if she were a porcelain doll, close, but not too tight. Tailmon stirred during the transfer, her tail twitching and curling around Kouji’s arm tightly.

Hikari tore her eyes away and pulled out her D-Terminal first. Unlike the others, she only had one Digimental. She flicked through her email until she found Taichi’s instructions. Izzy had written a program for this. He’d sent it out to all of them, the day after they’d found the first two Sanctums.

She placed the D-Terminal on the center depression, pulling up the program to manifest the Digimental. The click of a button, and it was there, floating above the open terminal in a gentle swath of pink light. Nefertimon’s Digimental was just as Hikari remembered it, the cat’s paws and ears peeking out from closed angel wings. She had only seen it once—the first time Tailmon had armor digivolved. The first time she’d felt herself called to join this new generation of Chosen Children, instead of a retired observer like her brother.

Her D-3 came next, and she realized it was different. It vibrated in her hand, filled with pent up energy. The screen was glowing brightly, the pink relief of the Crest of Light flashing amidst the light. She held it up, remembering Taichi’s instructions.

It happened just as Kouji said it would, the light burst from the device and shattered the Digimental, revealing a hole in the wall on the far side. It all felt as if she was in a daze—as if nothing could make her wonder now. She was tired. Burnt out. She couldn’t even bring herself to care that they’d found the Sanctum of Light. She only wanted to get Tailmon out of this place. Out of the Dark Ocean.

It sucked the light out of a person. She _knew_ that. It may have been the Black Tailmon who created those marks on Tailmon, but she knew it was just this place in general that was making them spread.

“What does it look like?” Hikari suddenly realized she’d walked on ahead of Kouji. He stood by the pedestal. Frozen. Unwilling to move and risk the digimon in his arms for even the tiniest of uncertain steps.

“Stairs.” She looked back, “Stairs leading up a bright hallway.”

“It is lit?” He sounded startled. Hikari nodded and caught herself, realizing he wouldn’t see it. Then she stopped, realizing why he looked so stunned.

When the others had used their keys, the hallways leading to the destroyed Sanctums had been dark.

They might not be too late.

x-x-x

Kouji hated this. Hated having to rely on someone else to this extent. Hikari had his hand in hers—they’d both agreed that it would be too slow to go groping up the stairs. They were going too slow as it was, for both of their liking. He let his fingertips brush the wall, giving him some idea as to the size of the stairwell. It wasn’t wide enough to let them walk side by side—Hikari had taken Tailmon back, and was on the step above him. The first few stairs had been slow, but soon Kouji had figured the distance out. There was a rhythm to their footfalls, and Kouji listened to that to keep himself from going insane.

“Stop.” He did so. Hikari shuffled, and Kouji quickly pulled his hand back as soon as it was released.

“The stairs level off to a landing two steps from where you are. There’s a wooden door here.” She began, narrating the scene for him. With his hand on the wall he carefully made those last two steps, sliding along the wall until he could feel the wooden door. “I’m going to open it, okay?”

He nodded vaguely in the direction of her voice. It was hard to tell with how echoing the stairwell was. He heard the wood crack in protest as she yanked on the door, finally giving a splintered cry as she freed the old wood from its frame. The hinges creaked in protest, and he heard Hikari gasp. She took a few steps—forward, he would guess, since she hadn’t backed up into him.

“Well?”

“It’s the top of the lighthouse.” Hikari’s voice was further away, “It’s so bright…Windows run along the edge of the room, letting the light shine out over the ocean. There’s a small balcony outside, a silver railing running along the edge of the ring.” She sounded—awed. He followed her in as her voice faded, “Where the light touches you can see color! The blue of the sky! The blue-green water! White Clouds! The dreary grey of this place springs to life for a brief instant…”

Her words faded. Kouji didn’t know what significance that had, but obviously it meant something to her. He wouldn’t have known there was any _lack_ of color here, given he’d been unable to see much of anything.

There had to be something about the light. In the Sanctum of Courage he remembered something. A large glass tube, running from floor to ceiling. Ken had been especially interested in it. A lighthouse would have something like that, right?

He hung by the door and cleared his throat “What about the lamp?”

Footsteps again. Hikari must have turned. He imagined she’d been standing by the windows, staring out over the water, given her description. “It’s…really bright. I can’t look at it long. It’s—”

“Exactly what I’ve been looking for. Thank you children.”

The mocking voice preceded a crash of shattered glass, and a yell from Hikari. Kouji rushed forward, catching her as she stumbled back away from the window. He held on to her shoulders firmly—distinctly _not_ thinking about how he knew where she was, “What happened?” He hissed in her ear. The sound of the wind was roaring through the broken glass, whistling past. It tore at his hair and tugged at his bandana. He could feel the sting of the chill salt air across his face.  
  
“A—a—pink and gold. Digimon. Shield. Floating outside.”

She huddled around Tailmon as glass shards peppered them both, kicked over as the digimon strode through the shattered window, heavy armored shoes clanging against the metal floor of the lighthouse. Kouji hated it. He couldn’t do anything but try to shield them both. The voice sounded familiar. He’d heard right before the gates had shut—the laughter!

“No wonder I couldn’t find it! Such a clever place to hide the Essence of Light. Ensconce it away amidst the dark realms, where my servant roams free, set it to activate only when the Chosen of Light approaches. My, my, if it hadn’t been for you children, I might never have found it!”

That laughter. Kouji set his teeth. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t. The warmth was gathering—the power mustering. Tailmon was in no shape to fight.

_Please let me do this._

He asked whatever it was that had stopped him from evolving, which had shocked the D-Scanner right out of his hand. They had no choice.

He felt something guiding his movements, filling in the blank spaces in the darkness. He couldn’t see, but he _knew_ where he needed to scan.

He wanted to snarl at that guide, recognizing it for what it was. But now was not the time. They both agreed on that.

“ _Spirit Evolution!”_

x-x-x

Something warm was around her, cradling her. Supporting her. Hikari opened her eyes warily and then wide in astonishment. She was surrounded by a moving wall of _light;_ little bits and bars and specks of blue and white all mixed together into a nearly solid sheet. Some of it snaked out of the larger mass, curling around the cat digimon in her arms. She felt like she should have been scared. She should have been worried. But she felt _safe._ She felt protected. She knew this force would never harm her.

The small cocoon broke apart, and Tailmon was there, blinking heavy eyes up at her. Hikari almost cried out for joy and hugged the life out of the digimon. Tailmon’s fur was a pristine white again, her eyes a clear blue. There were no signs of the corruption spread by the Dark Ocean, none save for the single band of black where her Holy Ring had once been. A strand of code snaked out from the main mass again, curling into a circle around that black. It spiraled for a few moments before solidifying, becoming a solid golden ring.

“’K-kari? What’s going on?” Tailmon managed to get out between Hikari’s desperate hugs. She was struggling in her partner’s grip, wide eyed and _healed_ in a way Hikari hadn’t seen since before they set foot in Vamdemon’s castle, “Where are we? What’s tha—“

Tailmon didn’t get to ask her question, and Hikari wouldn’t have had an answer anyway. The entire cocoon burst apart, raining down holy radiance on the tall humanoid knight who was shadowing his face with his golden shield. Strong arms solidified on Hikari’s shoulders, holding her and Tailmon protectively. Kouji! What about Kouji? He’d caught her when the knight had sent her flying. She looked up, startled, into a metal wolf’s mask. Shaggy blonde hair, falling out from beneath the helmet, framed a humanoid face within. But it was the eyes that caught and held her. A black sheen coated both the iris and the pupil, dead and unfocused. Deep down inside she knew they should have been _blue._

“Kouji...?”

The wolf man gave her a sad smile and released her shoulders, straightening up to face the other digimon.

“You.” The knight digimon was regarding the other digimon thoughtfully, lowering his shield and tapping a long, armored finger against the pink beaklike helmet, “I remember you now. Warrior of _Light_. How fitting for you to be here. However, you couldn’t ever face me alone, and especially not as you are now. “

“I thought you were _dead._ ” The Warrior of Light declared, hands, encased by armor shaped like a wolf’s claws, went to two cylinders at his side. He pulled them out, beams of white light elongating from the end, until he was holding two swords of light. He moved in front of Hikari, swords raised to the ready.

“Death is such a plebian notion.” The knight flicked his hand dismissively. Golden ribbons of metal arced from his shoulder blades, and with each pass of the lighthouse’s beam it would send them shining in a dazzling display. The light would also make the digimon flinch momentarily. “When you lot defeated Lord Lucemon it freed Dynasmon and myself as well. Without a Lord that lout decided to go his own way. He has no notion of a higher calling. I, however, will bring everlasting peace to this world. All I need to do it is right behind you.”

“I understand now why _we_ had to come.” The wolf-warrior grumbled, to himself although Hikari managed to hear it. Then to her surprise he glanced over her shoulder, looking straight at her, even if his eyes looked just as empty as ever. “Hikari. There’s an access panel near the center of the lamp, ten paces to your left. Take it. Find the portal—it should be marked—and _get out_. You need to get to safety.”

“As nostalgic as this whole meeting is—” The pink knight really seemed to hear himself talk. “I do believe I have an appointment. I shall grind you into the dust, Warrior, and scatter your ashes for the rest to find!”

He lunged, seeming to teleport toward the warrior, driving the golden shield point first into the armored chest. The wolf reacted fast enough however, to catch the shield in his twin swords. “I say…” He panted from the exertion of holding back the blow, “We take this _outside!”_

A blast of light shot out of the canon mounted on his left wrist and startled the knight. It threw him off enough to let a square kick to the chest knock him back and out, shattering another of the glass windows with his passing. The wolf followed him out, leaving Hikari and Tailmon alone in stunned silence, as the beam from the lighthouse continually revolved.

“I need to help.” Tailmon declared once the sounds of battle broke her out of her stupor. “Whoever he is, that—that hideously pink _thing_ is a Mega digimon. There’s no _way_ he can handle it on his own.”

The cat jumped to her paws, fighting her way out of Hikari’s vicelike grip. The girl could see the access hatch the warrior had mentioned. Supposedly they could escape through there. Leave and Tailmon would be safe.

And they would leave Kouji behind.

Agonizingly slowly, Hikari let Tailmon go. The cat jumped out of her arms and looked up expectantly, blue eyes shining with strength in the light from the lighthouse. Hikari pulled out her digivice, giving Tailmon a grin of confidence she didn’t really feel, “Go get ‘im Tailmon.”

_“Armor Evolution…!”_

Hikari gingerly stepped over shards of glass as Nefertimon winged away toward the battle, coming to a stop by the banged up silver railing.

She felt so helpless. Whatever…whatever Kouji had done…Those two wouldn’t have much of a chance against a Mega digimon. She could hear the battle raging above her. Hear the taunts—everything. They were on the roof now—the warrior unable to fly, and Nefertimon’s air support was keeping the knight out of the air. Hikari couldn’t see them. She could only close her eyes and pray.


	15. The Angel of Light

“I told you to leave!” Wolfmon snarled as he heard the whistle of the wind as the winged cat flew past, ducking not only to avoid the shield trying to smash into his face, but also the small projectiles Nefertimon shot as she strafed. He heard them shatter into tiny crystalline bits against LordKnightmon’s armor—pink if he remembered the color right. Even as he groused at her, he was made painfully aware of how necessary she was to him right now. Outside the view of the lighthouse’s lantern, the darkness had come crashing back down around him, smothering even that _other_ sense of where and what everything was. Nefertimon…Nefertimon glowed like a small star to his darkened eyes, and she was the only reason he even knew where LordKnightmon was. Her light was blocked by him, rejected by the evil lodged in the knight’s soul.

 _I thought defeating Lucemon would be the end of that._ _He was purified._

He couldn’t tell if the thought was his own, or…the others. He could feel it even now, lurking behind his every thought and motion. Right now they were united in one purpose, protecting Hikari. Protecting the Tower of Light. Holding off the evil LordKnightmon brought for as long as they could.

But…neither of them believed they would succeed. Which was why he was shouting at Nefertimon. Protecting her and Hikari would mean nothing if they just stuck around and got _killed._

“You _need_ to get out of here. You can’t take him!”

“Neither can you! Do you expect us to leave you alone with _him?_ ” Nefertimon shot back, flaring her wings and pelting LordKnightmon with some sort of stone she was summoning from her back. “How I wish Pegasusmon were here—we would have trussed this overgrown dandy up like a Christmas Goose.”

LordKnightmon just shrugged off the hits, blocking the projectiles with his shield. Wolfmon knew they barely even fazed him. Nefertimon—while invaluable as both a light source and as suppressing fire—wasn’t even up to Wolfmon’s level of power.

“I never knew anyone took the phrase “fighting like cats and dogs seriously.”” The knight chuckled with amusement, “And thank you for showing me that little trick, my dear. I see I shall need to work a little harder to stamp out evolution here. _Spiral Masquer—”_

Wolfmon leapt to intercept the attack, using his light sabers to interrupt the golden blades as they sought their target. He couldn’t let LordKnightmon get an attack off. The only way he could even _take_ a hit and live to tell about it would be if he could use his Hybrid evolution—but he just _couldn’t_ sync the spirits up correctly. It was as if something was fighting him. And it wasn’t the _other_ , as much as he’d like to blame it on Akemon. He grunted and was pushed back by the force of LordKnightmon’s strikes—the shingles on the roof of the lighthouse breaking and crumbling beneath his armor as he was sent skidding down the side. He’d bought enough time for Nefertimon to get out of range though.

“This is rather boring.” He stayed down as he heard the crunch of LordKnightmon’s boots in the mess he’d made of the roof. He stayed down, listening, waiting, waiting for the nudge that would tell him it was time. “The little kitty might be a pest, but I know that _you_ could be a challenge if you tried.”

A shadow was towering over him, and Wolfmon spun, thrusting his suddenly activated sword up and through what should have been the chest of the armored digimon. But the afterimage faded fast, and suddenly LordKnightmon’s voice was coming from far above.

“ _Laser Lattice!”_

Wolfmon snarled at the constricting energy binding him to the roof. He knew what was coming next. He braced himself as well as he could without the ability to move. The sonic boom from LordKnightmon’s shield slammed him in the chest, over and over again. Each time he felt like the wind was getting knocked out of him. He was getting pounded down, down, deeper into the woodwork. In the back of his dazed mind he could feel the support beams buckling.

One last blow sent him rocketing straight through the roof, crashing into the room below. The energy net fizzed out around him, leaving his arms free, but he could barely move. He lay on the metal floor, gasping for breath. Each one sent spiking pain through his ribs.

His eyes drifted shut, the light from the lamp bleeding into his receding vision, searing through the darkness clouding it. Nefertimon was shouting for him, he could see her, a bright star hovering in the gap between the ceilings. Code began to obscure it, blocking his view of anything. Kouji struggled to hold on to Wolfmon—if he lost his evolution, LordKnightmon might take the spirit away.

He lost his grip, and the code exploded, tearing the world apart. He could feel himself struggling to his feet, even as he lost contact with it all. He heard his own voice speaking, could feel the edges of his D-Scanner materializing into his shaking hand.

_“Digicode, SCAN!”_

_x-x-x_

LordKnightmon knocked the pesky flying cat out of the sky with a well-placed Spiral Masquerade, and he gave a contented sigh as she plummeted to the torn up roof below him. She glowed with a bright light before shrinking down to the tiny kitten he’d seen with the human earlier. That was the last annoyance taken care of for the moment. He had some digicode to harvest. Truly digivolution was such a chaotic thing. It was of no use in his peaceful world.

He walked toward the hole he’d sent the Warrior of Light through. How lucky, it had gone straight through to the lamp room. He could see the jumble of code within—the source of this unnatural light in the Dark World. Well, he would remove it post-haste. He savored the moment; the last and most powerful of the forces of evolution would soon be his. Once he controlled evolution, he could control this world—the inhabitants too weak to stop him.

That Armor Evolution was pesky, but he was certain he could do something about that too, when it came down to it. It had something to do with the egg the human carried. It would be hidden in her data, like everything in this world. All he had to do was bring it out and scan it. This sector of the Digital World seemed so _backwards_. At least the other one he’d visited knew the merits of absorbing an opponent’s data, even if they couldn’t access it short of deleting the enemy—such a barbaric notion. Scanning was a much more elegant method. It allowed the enemy to watch.

He raised his hand, beckoning to the code. He was the last one standing, it should respond readily, streaming in spirals to his hand to join its brethren. Other than the Warrior of Light, this one had no guardian. There was no one left to oppose him.

But it wasn’t jumping to his call. It was constricting, tightening itself into coils further away from him. It was moving away, he realized with astonishment. At first the entire room had been filled, now it was a tight ball in the center. Shrinking. Shrinking. Being drawn away.

LordKnightmon would call it unseemly at any other time, but he snarled with rage and lunged into the room. The code was breaking up, letting him see the center of the maelstrom. The _Warrior_. Of _course_. He wasn’t from this backwater sector. He _knew_ what to do with Digital Code. It was being drawn into the device in his hand, glowing brightly. He could only do one thing—interrupt the transfer. He summoned his ribbon blades, elongating them and sending them shooting toward the bundle of data, “ _Spiral Masquerade!”_

He barely got a couple hits off before the room exploded with white light—the shockwave knocked him back, up and out of the hole in the ceiling. LordKnightmon caught himself, turning his chaotic tumbling into a much more elegant flip. He righted himself in the air, fanning his shoulder blades—had it been enough? Had he managed to stop it?

He saw the data burst apart, leaving the human standing in the center of the room. Good! He’d managed to knock him out of the evolution. Really, such quick, cheaply won evolutions were worth next to nothing if they were dispelled so easily. But there was something off about the human. He was still standing for one—a failed evolution usually sent them to their knees. And his hair…LordKnightmon had never truly paid much attention to the humans, but he _had_ seen the boy before he’d evolved. He’d had black hair. Now it was _white._ A scarf fluttered in the wind—the same one his previous evolution had been wearing. Odd.

Black eyes rose to meet his gaze, and the child had the gall to flash him a rather wolfish grin. The nerve! Didn’t he realize he had already _lost?_ He readied his shield—he would teach the child one last lesson before he scanned his data. His Fists of Fear technique had worked quite well so far.

“ _Double Spirit Evolution!”_

No! LordKnightmon stepped, rushing down, forward toward the knot of data. He would not let the brat try again.

 _“Holy Arrow!”_ He was forced to skid to a stop, the arrow of multicolored light whizzing through his path—if he hadn’t stopped it would have hit him squarely, even at the rate of speed he’d been going. He turned slowly, turning face to face with an angel. She radiated rainbow light, brilliant in such a dark place such as this. Her power…he hesitated as she put her hand to the feathery bow attached to her glove, drawing another arrow of light out of thin air. It was unusually strong. He knew of Angewomon—she was one of the Celestial Digimon, Lord Lucemon’s servants before they turned on him—and he knew that she wasn’t on his level. Not yet…

The light radiating off her painted the color back into this dark world, much like the Essence of Light had. Of course! She’d be drawing on the power of this place! In the deepest darkness, the light shines all the stronger!

“ _Beowolfmon!”_

And of course the other irritation was back. He shifted, trying to keep track of both of his opponents. The armored warrior leapt out of the opening in the tower, landing on the broken remains of the roof, the dual-bladed golden sword held in one clawed hand. HolyKnightmon tched at the radiance coming off the Warrior as well. Of course. He was more powerful than both of them, of course, but…in this place…

The Warrior raised his sword high, a blaze of white light traveled up the blade, forming into a giant wolf made of pure light. It snarled at LordKnightmon, gleaming red eyes fixating on him as Beowolfmon held the attack for the barest moment—

“Ceruberumon!” HolyKnightmon commanded. He knew the dog would hear him. A rip in space appeared next to him, cutting the grey sky and opening onto blue and white clouds, green fields. He shot through the portal just as the attacks were released. They collided in a clash of blinding light, sending him skidding away from the rapidly shrinking hole in space. Yes. A strategic retreat would be best for now. He _would_ get the Essence of Light even if he had to _delete_ the Warrior.

But…it might not need to come to that. His newest henchmen, Arukenimon, had mentioned some very interesting news about one of this sector’s chosen…If he had both the Warrior’s Light, and the dark child’s Darkness…

Well. Well. He would pay that child back, and he would savor every moment of it.

x-x-x

Hikari ran into the now dark lamp room, rushing to Angewomon’s side as she drifted through the opening in the ceiling. She was carefully cradling something, and as Hikari got closer she recognized the blue jacket clinging to the arm dangling limply from Angewomon’s hold, “Kouji! Angewomon, is he alright!? What about that digimon—is he—?”

The angel touched down lightly onto the metal floor. This room, once so full of light, now sat dark and lifeless. With the blinding radiance gone Hikari could see various machinery lining the walls, all dead, all silent. She ignored it, instead reaching into Angewomon’s arms, checking the still boy’s pulse. It beat steadily, but he was breathing in shallow gasps, as if each one pained him. Hikari froze, and moved her hand from his neck slowly down to the pony-tail draped over his shoulder. The white was fading now, returning to its normal black. That color was familiar. Not just white…but grey. More silver on snow. There’d been a metallic shine to the color, one she remembered noticing somewhere else…

“LordKnightmon is gone, for now. Do not worry Hikari.” Angewomon reassured, turning her helmeted head to take in the room. “As for Kouji, he should recover given time. We had best find the portal and leave; there is nothing to be gained by remaining in this lightless place.”

“Right!” Hikari scrambled to it, looking for anything that could be the portal the Warrior—Kouji—had mentioned. She tried to keep her mind from thinking on that specific association. Kouji was—became—a digimon. She knew it was _possible_ for digimon to take human _forms_ —Arukenimon and Mummymon were living examples of that—but this…he was _human_. He’d de-digivolved to a _human._

Far too many thoughts were whirling around in Hikari’s mind and no small amount of them were also about Angewomon—how had she evolved? Hikari hadn’t been able to see most of the fight, since it took place on the roof. But shortly after that blinding burst of white light her D-3 had responded with the evolution, the crest of light blazing from the screen. The only other time Angewomon had appeared since their new adventure had also been in the Dark Ocean…

She pulled out her D-3, using Angewomon’s light to navigate the small room. Upon approaching a specific screen, her digivice beeped and activated. The computer monitor sputtered to life in a fit of static. Vamdemon’s castle loomed in the background, and the sun was slowly going down, creeping closer to the ruined parapets. A way out!

“Angewomon! Over here!”

The angel crossed the threshold, coming up beside her partner. Hikari looked up at Angewomon, who smiled down at her. She nodded, raising her D-3 to the screen—silently praying that this would work.

“Open!”

The screen flared, and when the light died, the Tower of Light stood empty and alone.

x-x-x

Tailmon leaned against Hikari’s knees, one paw curled in the cool dew covered grass, the other resting lightly on Kouji’s shoulder. Hikari had the human’s head in her lap, hating the idea of having him lying face first in the grass. The human hadn’t stirred since the portal let them down gently in this field. She…knew what she’d felt, in those moments when the Warrior of Light had reached out to her, given her some of his strength. It was…Akemon. Somehow, this _human_ was also Akemon. It was a strange concept to wrap her mind around, that the snappy, somewhat standoffish, but still kind digimon was also the aloof, icy, but still…kind human. She paused as those two thoughts considered each other, then they slid into place, clicking nicely together. On second thought, it made sense. But…if the _human_ was Akemon, then who was _Anyamon?_

And the _other_ Kouji? The one in the Human World?

“There’s still no reply…” Hikari mumbled, checking her D-Terminal for the third time since she’d thought to message Miyako. “I’ve heard from Takeru—they returned an hour ago, but Miyako still isn’t back.”

“Hawkmon and Anyamon are with her.” Tailmon reminded Hikari, even if she was a bit dubious on her own end. Kudamon’s words were drifting back to her.

“ _Even now, you lead darkness to the light!”_

She shook her head furiously, banishing the poisonous thoughts. Hikari’s hand dropped to Tailmon’s shoulder, comforting her. “We’ll wait here longer…” The girl was whispering to herself, “We can’t just leave without them.”

The “what if they are hurt?” echoed unbidden between them. Neither of them spoke it out loud, but both were thinking it. As the sun slowly sank behind the castle, Tailmon kept her eyes trained on the ruined building. Shadows moved across the empty space around it, cast by the setting sun. But one shadow kept moving. Tailmon suddenly sat up, jumping to her feet and running to the peak of the hill. Her tail twitched anxiously as the sun vanished, blotted from the world by the husk of evil. She lost sight of the figures, and waited impatiently for her low-light vision to kick in. She couldn’t see very far, but there were two, one tall, one small, making their way toward them. Miyako and Hawkmon? She couldn’t tell colors very well at night, everything seemed de-saturated— washed out. “Someone’s coming!”

But the one who met them at the crest of the hill was not Miyako. He was dressed in armor the color of night, gleaming in the light cast from the moon that was rising from the east. A golden mane surrounded a lion’s head helmet. The face within was masked, and the shoulder armor was fashioned after roaring lions, a red gem glittering between carved fangs.

He was carrying something, Tailmon noticed suddenly. The spill of purple hair over his arms had Hikari—who had already begun to gently lay Kouji’s head onto the grass so she could get up—jump to her feet, “Miyako!”

“Hawkmon!” Tailmon noticed the exhausted bird-digimon trudging up the hill. She kept an eye on the black armored warrior, but if her growing suspicion was correct, she knew who he was. The bird digimon looked completely beat up, his feathers ruffled and even his headband askew, “We were so worried about you guys!”

“As we were for you.” Hawkmon responded wearily, “We were attacked as soon as you opened the gate. One of them went through; Ceruberumon stayed back and would have beaten us soundly if Anyamon hadn’t evolved.” Hawkmon nodded at the dark-clad digimon. Her suspicions confirmed, she eyed the other digimon. He returned her gaze calmly, having given Miyako over to Hikari’s fussing. The purple-haired girl was groaning under Hikari’s tender care, but at least she was moving. She had bruises all _over,_ and those marks on her arm looked suspiciously like bite marks, although there was a strange lack of blood.

“He went straight for her.” Hawkmon whispered, “I was Halsemon, and Anyamon was there, and he ignored us. He _attacked_ Miyako.”

“He knew you would do anything to protect her.” The Warrior responded, kneeling down into the grass. He gathered his—partner?—and leaned him gently against him. Kouji stirred, eyes cracking open at the sound of a familiar voice. He reached a hand out, searching blindly. The warrior caught it in his metal-clad one and squeezed it reassuringly. The human sighed, a mumbled word, and drifted off again, hand still clasped with the digimon’s. “Where we come from, the digimon do not have any qualms about attacking humans.”

“You are Kouichi…aren’t you?” Hikari asked quietly. _That_ shattered the Warrior’s peaceful calm, brown eyes widening as the lion-headed helmet turned toward her. Hikari was watching the two of them thoughtfully. She had stripped Miyako’s jacket and made it into a pillow for the girl as Hikari worked, tearing off even more strips of cloth from her own to try and cover the marks and bruises. It would be unusable after this. “He just called you _Nii-san._ I’ve been trying to figure it out. Kouji is so _different_ here. It’s as if he is a different person. Akemon called him that once. Kouichi. I thought it was just a nickname. But Kouji _became_ a digimon. And that digimon had the same symbol that Akemon has on his shoulder. You…look similar…but not. There are tiny differences between the real world and the human world. Hair. Face. Voice… If he can do it…”

The Warrior let out a sigh, “Right now I am Lowemon…but…you are correct. My true name is Kimura Kouichi.” He looked down at the human leaning against him, listened to the shallow breathing, “Elder twin to Minamoto Kouji. Here in the digital world, you would know me as Anyamon.”

“Why…?” Hikari demanded, her hands were clenched into fists, “ _Why_ the deception? Why not just _tell us?_ My brother is tearing his hair out over ‘Kouji’s quirky personality shifts—Daisuke has a crackpot theory that he’s the next Digimon Kaiser because of his black digivice. Izzy is buried neck deep in this puzzle about some sort of “Spirits”. Why put us through this?”

“Because we were ordered not to let you know, short of life-threatening circumstances.”

“By who!?”

Piercing brown eyes caught Hikari’s and held them, “By the Gods of our world. Even your Guardian, Gennai agreed. No one was to know of Spirit Evolution. Given the presence of LordKnightmon…I understand that order a bit better. He was not supposed to know we were here.”

Hikari sat back, chewing on that. Then she stood up, her resolve hardening, “I’m going to tell.”

“No.” Lowemon whispered, shaking his head, “No you won’t.”

x-x-x

_Kouji is staying with Gennai tonight._

Hikari sent the email off to Ken so the other Chosen wouldn’t worry about his houseguest. She sat quietly on one of Izzy’s guest chairs, Tailmon dozing against her side. She had called Miyako’s family, telling them she was going to spend the night at her place. Now she just needed to email Taichi. She needed to figure out what to say.

_We made it back safe. Miyako got hurt, so she’s going to be staying with Gennai—he said he should get her patched up pretty quickly. Kouji is also staying—one of the digimon we’d met managed to blind him, and it has yet to wear off._

_We found the Sanctum of Light. It was in the Dark Ocean. We met our Mega digimon…his name is LordKnightmon. Apparently he’s from the sector Kouji and Anyamon are from. We managed to keep him from getting the Essence of Light but…the Sanctum was destroyed. Izzy is scanning the data now._

“Hikari! You didn’t mention you had _four_ Null Digimon for me!” Izzy sounded delighted. Hikari didn’t look, knowing exactly what would be on the screen, “I know you said LordKnightmon was the one to attack you, but what about these others? This…Warrior of Light? The two are similar enough to suggest a digivolution—where did you meet him?”

“He was protecting the Sanctum.” It was truth.

“And…Lowemon? The Warrior of Darkness?”

“I…” _Warrior of Darkness._ She had suspected, but to _hear_ it. She remembered those eyes, holding her own, shaded by the fangs of a lion. She remembered Kouji—no _Kouichi_ shyly answering her questions in the computer lab. She remembered him standing under a streetlamp, gently cradling a distraught Akemon in his arms, laughing with her over silly nicknames. The words almost caught in her throat, “I…don’t remember. I didn’t really see him.”

The words sounded hollow to her ears, but Izzy accepted it without much more than a disappointed complaint, going back to the data. Hikari didn’t lie. She felt sick.

She felt Tailmon’s paw curl in Hikari’s hand, holding her gently. She looked down into Tailmon’s worried blue eyes. She gave the cat a small smile, trying to convey, ‘Don’t worry’ without words.

She wasn’t going to say anything.

_Taichi—Hawkmon couldn’t digivolve. I asked Takeru, apparently they were forced to Armor Digivolve when they were attacked by a pack of Gazimon. LordKnightmon said Light had been the only one left._

_I’m heading home. See you soon._

And it was sent, leaving Hikari to stew with a secret locked in her heart.

_x-x-x_

“Hmmm…” Gennai moved the light around, noting with concern that the eye didn’t react at all. No movement. No dilation. There didn’t even appear to be a reflection from the penlight. It was as if the black film covering the Warrior of Light’s eyes was drinking it all in, “You say this was done by a Holy type digimon?”

He released Kouji’s head, palming the penlight back into the pockets hidden in his voluminous sleeves. The Warrior rubbed at his eye, blinking a couple times to remove the irritation, “Yeah. Tailmon called it Kudamon.”

“Your eyes weren’t black until you went through the gate.” Anyamon remarked. The large cat was sprawled on the rug at their feet, watching the proceedings with both worry and interest. “They were murky, but still blue. Hikari agreed with me.”

“The Dark Ocean is not the most pleasant of places.” To think the Sanctum of Light had been hidden _there_ …It made sense metaphorically, to hide the brightest of lights you needed the deepest of darkness. But to think some of his order had braved that place in order to even build it… “It has a tendency to corrupt anything it touches. I’m afraid a curse cast by a spiteful Holy Digimon would be a ridiculously easy target. You said when you evolved you could still see, after a fashion?”

“I’m not sure _I_ could.” Kouji grumbled, leaning back into the chair he’d sunken into as soon as they’d arrived and had not moved from since. “I could feel Akemon nudging me along the entire time. He somehow knew how to read the shadows. I don’t even remember what happened after he wrested control away from me when we fell.”

Gennai frowned at the bitterness creeping into his voice, “You speak as if Akemon is another entity—independent of whether you share his form or not.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Anyamon suddenly paying clear attention to this line of conversation. Kouji didn’t seem to notice—then again it would likely be hard without the sense of sight—and responded after a short pause, “He is. I thought he was just there in the Human World. When I was Akemon. But I met him in the Dark Ocean. He was the only thing I could see. He was human. He told me… _I_ was the reason he was there. That _I_ was keeping him separate. Of course I am. I won’t let _anything_ influence my thoughts like that. Especially if he can just push me aside like that when we are actually working together.”

Gennai caught Anyamon’s eyes, unknown to the stewing warrior in the chair. He arched an eyebrow in question. The response was a slow shake of the head. Gennai nodded and clapped his hands together, causing Kouji to flinch in his chair, “Well, I’m going to check in on Miyako and Hawkmon, and then grab some dinner for you all. You just rest up, Kouji. If you hadn’t been armored, your ribs would have probably been broken clean through. As it is, they are rather badly bruised. Anyamon, would you like the help me?”

He gave the cat a meaningful look. Anyamon glanced down, and then back at Kouji, before he rose to his paws. “I’ll be back.” He placed his head into Kouji’s searching hand. The human’s fingers clenched into the thick fur, and then he exhaled heavily, releasing his grip before pulling it back, “Alright.”

Anyamon pulled away, following Gennai out of the sitting room. He closed the door behind them, letting out a sigh. He turned away from the door, only to find gleaming golden eyes staring up at him, “What did you want?”

“Let me check on Miyako first.” Gennai motioned to the hallway. Miyako had been placed in one of the bedrooms. She had definitely protested against being left behind in his care, and it had taken the combined efforts of Hikari AND Hawkmon to guilt-trip her into staying. Gennai peeked into the room, nudging the door open carefully with his toe. Miyako’s soft breathing was the main sound in the room—her aviator hat was left discarded on the bedside table, her purple hair was peeking out from under the comforter.

Hawkmon looked up at the door opening; the bird digimon had dragged a plush beanbag-type chair from the sitting room to Miyako’s bedside. He stood up, and silently left the room so as not to wake his partner. “May I help you with something?”

“I was just checking in, and wondering if you would like something to eat. I see Miyako finally settled down.”

Hawkmon nodded, “She drifted off shortly after I got her to drink the tea you brought—I assume it is some sort of restorative?”

“Of course. It should deal with most of the superficial bruising.”

“Splendid. And I am feeling a bit peckish, if you would. Worrying has a tendency to spoil my appetite, but I’m beginning to feel it again.”

Gennai promised to bring Hawkmon something light, but he tapped the bird on the shoulder when he moved to return to the room, “You do remember what we talked about?”

“Of course.” Hawkmon sighed, shaking his head, “I do not feel comfortable keeping anything from Miyako, but if I must, I must.” He glanced at Anyamon, before suddenly dropping into a deep bow to the large cat, “If keeping your secret is the only boon you asked of me in return for saving Miyako in my stead, I will give you my silence gladly.”

“I would have saved her anyway.” The cat responded awkwardly, ears pinned back against his head. He ducked his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry the situation became necessary. I should have been keeping better watch.”

“Do not fret. You had to watch your own partner vanish before your eyes, I understand.” The bird placed his wing on Anyamon’s shoulder. The cat moved to protest the word partner, but Hawkmon shook his head, “It is true that you two are truly brothers, and I do not claim to fathom how it is possible for someone to be both human and digimon, but you are also _partners_. It is true, even among humans, is it not? Together, we are stronger than anyone would be apart. Now, I must return to mine.” He nodded to both of them, “Good night.”

Gennai waited as the door shut and began to continue down the hall, preparing to double back toward the kitchen. He shook his head in amusement, “We are truly lucky it was Hawkmon, and not Veemon. He will stay quiet out of a sense of duty, if nothing else.”

“Is it really necessary though?” Anyamon padded silently at his side. Gennai couldn’t hear the digimon’s footfalls at all. It was amazing, he decided, how much the cat seemed to have changed since the pair showed up at his door almost a week ago now. He’d been rather awkward, unsure of himself. Now he was settled in, human and digimon blended together to the point there wasn’t any distinction.

And that might be part of the problem with Kouji and Akemon. But that could wait.

“Mmm. Yes. This LordKnightmon of yours might know about your brother, but I doubt he knows of you. Did Ceruberumon recognize you at all?”

Anyamon shook his head, “Takuya was the one who told me of him. He fought a Ceruberumon when he first came to the Digital World. Speaking of…Gennai…” Anyamon hesitated. Gennai stopped walking, waiting for the cat to continue. “I think…I think I know how LordKnightmon managed to reach the Sanctums.”

Oh?

“Cerberumon…he has a power. Takuya mentioned it once. He can create a gate to the dark world.”

“And from there he could cross back over, into the sanctums.” Gennai finished grimly, “It would neatly bypass the traps, since they were only placed in our world.”

Anyamon nodded, “The…darkness clinging to Kouji. It’s…it feels similar to what I felt in the Sanctum of Courage.”  


“So he’s using the Dark World as some sort of passageway, using it to move around undetected. Of _course_ we could never find a trace of his movements! I may need to speak with Qinglongmon—we may need to contact Beelzebumon. He’s one of the few Lords of that world that is willing to cooperate with us…”

Gennai realized he was talking aloud and laughed, scratching at the back of his head, “Sorry. Don’t mind me. I’m so used to being alone here that my tongue has a tendency to wander.”

And so they continued toward the kitchen. There Gennai got busy preparing the dinner. He had plenty of fish, but Hawkmon had expressed the desire for something light. While the fish roasted merrily in the oven, he searched the pantry for some sort of vegetable.

Anyamon waited by the table, watching. Gennai saw the cat’s tail lashing in an agitated fashion as he came out of the pantry, carrying a basketful of a curious grain he’d received as a gift from a village of Yokomon. He raised an eyebrow, “Just go ahead and ask.”

“Why did you ask me to come? It couldn’t be just to reaffirm Hawkmon’s silence.”

“No.” Gennai agreed, setting the basket down onto the table. He dropped down into a crouch, bringing himself and the digimon onto the same level, “No. It wasn’t. I meant to ask you about Anyamon.”

The cat startled, “What are you talking about? I’m fi—”

He narrowed his eyes, eyeing Gennai’s sudden smile with suspicion. The guardian crossed his arms in his sleeves, “So there’s no difference? You remember what your brother was saying.”

“It was…odd for the first day.” The words came slowly, “But after he…helped me during the Trial of Courage…no. We are as we are. I…am not truly Kouichi, while I’m like this. But neither am I only Anyamon.”

“And you are not worried?”

Anyamon shook his head, “Kouichi still exists. Anyamon…does not _twist_ me the way Duskmon did. We are as we are.”

And that was how it should be. A successful digivolution meant a blending of the two personalities, but it was so _normal_ for a digimon. They didn’t think twice about it. Hawkmon didn’t evolve into Halsemon, only to continue to think of himself as Hawkmon. Humans must be more ridged. More set in themselves. Even Anyamon, who seemed to be handling the digivolution well, thought in terms of “I” and “he”.

“What’s…wrong with my brother?”

The worry in those hesitant words had Gennai scratching the drooping ears comfortingly, “Sometimes a digimon isn’t ready to digivolve. It’s _very_ rare…but…if they fight the change, it will…force a split in personality. I’m afraid your brother is heading down that route. The manifestation could have merely been an aftereffect of the Dark Ocean, but if this continues…”

He honestly didn’t know what to expect. Most digimon didn’t deal with the constant cycle of evolution and devolution that the chosen’s partners did. They evolved once, leaving their old form and personality behind. He would expect more evolutions to help _fix_ the problem, to sync up the personalities over time. But if the core personality—because Kouji _was_ human—began to resent it…it might drive the wedge deeper. He really didn’t know at this point.

“But why would this happen while he is human—Or as the Warrior Spirits—if it’s a problem with a single digivolution?”

Gennai paused, surprised. Anyamon was smart. He should have figured it out. They were dealing with a _digimon._ “Well…Digivolution goes both ways, does it not? Your brother becomes Akemon. When he de-digivolves…wouldn’t Akemon become _him?_ ”


	16. Aftermath - A Whole New World

“Kouji…”

He didn’t turn. He sat on Gennai’s veranda, staring intently out over the pristine lake. He knew the water sparkled in the setting sun, reds and yellows and pinks all swirling around, teased into moving patterns by the breeze he could feel tugging at his hair. His bare feet skimmed the water, and he knew his shoes were placed neatly beside him.

He could imagine the scene vividly, but he knew if he opened his eyes he wouldn’t be able to see it. So he kept his eyes shut, leaning his head back into the wind.

“Brother.” He heard the thump of a heavy body settling on the wooden floor behind him. He could feel the fur tickling his fingers—Anyamon had settled right beyond his hand, just to his left. Kouji didn’t even bother turning to face him—there would be no point.

“Tomorrow is Monday.”

Kouji didn’t respond. Instead he kicked at the water, feeling it running through his toes, sending the water splashing. He focused on the sensation, letting his mind build the image for him, the water sparkling in the sun, floating almost motionless before collapsing into another splash, sending ripples dancing along the water.

“We need to go back.”

“Why?” Kouji muttered, listening to the sounds of Anyamon’s claws scratching against the wood as his brother stretched. Whiskers tickled his hand, and he could almost _see_ it. Anyamon’s head would be resting right near his hand, nose within a fingertips reach. He could feel the warm breath sending the whiskers quivering. His fingers itched to move, to touch the warm fur. He clamped down on the impulse.

He didn’t need to get even _more_ touchy feely.

The worst thing about not being able to see was that he was reliant on every other sense. Touch was the easiest to use. His nails were digging into his palms, and Kouji exhaled slowly, trying to force the tension out with the breath.

“We’ve got school.”

“ _You_ have school.” Kouji would be stuck as Akemon again. He swung his feet back to the balcony, and crossed his legs. The wind was cold on his wet toes, but they needed to dry before he could go back inside. He didn’t need Gennai berating him about tracking water onto the tatami mat.

“Is this because of A—”

“No.” Kouji pushed to his feet, wavering, but steadying quickly. His sense of balance was adapting surprisingly well to the situation. “It’s just…what’s the point?”

He heard Anyamon scrabble to follow him, but Kouji was quickly retracing his steps down the veranda. He counted off the distance in his head, one hand brushing along the wall. Once his fingertips touched the door frame he recalculated, making a careful right angle. There were three steps here, he remembered, leading down from the veranda into the garden.

“You need to go back at some point.”

Kouji paused in mid-step. He didn’t want to think of how he knew Anyamon was sitting on the edge of the wooden deck. He imagined he could see his brother’s eyes boring into his back, tail twitching. “Don’t you think it will be worse? How would we explain the fact that you _aren’t_ blind, and suddenly Akemon is?”

“Why do you want to go back, anyway?” He jumped the last step and soon felt rough stone beneath his bare feet. If he remembered correctly, a few paces to the left would be grasses, but those would usually be hidden by shade this time of evening. He hadn’t had much else to do yesterday, so he’d tried to memorize the layout of Gennai’s rather large house—it was more of a compound really. “And don’t give me that crap about data maintenance. We’re in the digital world right now, we _are_ data.”

Gennai hadn’t quite gotten to the point of throwing them out, but Kouji had overheard him grumbling. The program had expected Kouji to return with Miyako to the Human World. But what was the point? At least here he was stumbling around and _human_.

 _As human as one could be as bits and bytes of data._ That wry thought was not his own, even if it sounded like a comment he would make. Kouji’s expression tightened involuntarily. As a digimon…he would _need_ to accept Akemon’s help, and he refused to do that on principal at this point. ‘ _I thought you said I would never see you again?’_

_You don’t see me now, do you?_ That alien voice snarked back, _Then again, you don’t see much of anything right now._

Of course. It wasn’t like the blindness wasn’t Akemon’s doing anyway.

 _Are you still holding on to that crackpot theory? My point was that you_ need _me._

To what? See shadows? See the differences between light and darkness? No thanks. He was doing just fine on his own.

_You would have been dead without me._

And he was perfectly _fine_ working with Akemon when the situation called for it! They’d had to protect someone. Lean on you, lean on me. That had nothing to do with talking to a bitter voice in his head when there was absolutely no reason for it to be there in the first place.

“…Kouji? Are you okay? You’ve been staring at that tree for the last five minutes.”

…Anyamon. No. That was Kouichi. How did Kouichi deal with this? Maybe Anyamon wasn’t as stubborn, and they’d already worked out an agreement. He didn’t want to ask. He _could_ handle this. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

_So. You truly do think of me as a tool. One to disappear when you no longer need me._

Kouji pointedly ignored it. “If you want to go back, I won’t stop you. I have no right to keep you trapped here. _”_

Trapped. Trapped. One way or another, one would be trapped. He remembered back to that first day, as they were arguing over who would remain digimon. It had left a bitter taste in his mouth then, and it still lingered, soured over time to something even less palatable.

There was a muffled snort, and it was suddenly much, much closer than where he’d thought Kouichi had been—up on the veranda. He forgot how quietly Anyamon could move when he wanted to; he knew he’d been being careful to make extra noise for Kouji’s benefit, “I’m not going to leave you like this, little brother.”

And then there was heat. Energy. It thrummed around him.

“Why?”

“Because paws don’t make for good hugs.” Kouichi’s voice was different as Lowemon, but it was more familiar than Anyamon. Arms were wrapping around him, pulling him back against the metal lion on the chestplate. It felt cool, solid, _real_ in the void that his world was becoming. Everything was disembodied now; a collection of brief touches and sound. Did things stop existing because he wasn’t touching them? Kouji stiffened, reluctant in the hold, even as a part of him wanted to melt into the show of comfort, to cling to the older brother that was really his only support here.

_Is it so bad? To crave the comfort of my older brother?_

His knees buckled, but Lowemon held him up. Akemon was changing him, whether through acceptance, or flat refusal.

“We’ll figure this out.” His brother promised. He was taller than Kouji now, his voice drifting down from above him. Too far, Kouji knew. Kouichi was supposed to be his height.

But it was either this, or Anyamon’s furry comfort. And this was just a little more human.

“We’ll figure this out, and then we can all go home.”

He was supposed to be the strong one.

He had been the one to rescue his brother.

He’d been the one to hold Kouichi’s hand in the hospital room. He’d been the one to deck one of the bullies picking on Kouichi when he’d gone to meet him at school. He was the one who offered to help around the house after school, to relieve the stress of their overworked mother.

Something prickled in the corners of his useless eyes—dust. It had to be. There was no way he was crying.

None.

None at all.


	17. Aftermath - Rebirth

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hikari glanced down at the box in her hands. It looked quite different in the daylight, out of the doom and gloom of that den of evil. It was worn, but must have once been a beautifully carved jewelry box. She couldn’t help but wonder who had owned such a thing before it fell into Vamdemon’s hands. Its antiquated beauty was marred by the ink-marked white scrolls plastered over the lid, sealing the two halves together. Given what Kudamon had done, she’d gone to Gennai about the problem, and he had pointed her to a funny little digimon named Sepikmon. The masked monkey had been delighted to draw up a couple seals for her—apparently he didn’t get many digimon interested in his arts. Supposedly the little bits of paper would keep Kudamon quiet while they worked.

It appeared effective. The box was quivering in her hands, but otherwise she and Tailmon had been unaccosted, gathering the little bits of gold jewelry and placing them carefully into bags, each liberally padded with anything they could think of—leaves, old shirts Hikari had dug out of her closet, anything.

Nefertimon gave her a glance from where she was unloading the sacks of relics Hikari had jury-rigged to her back for easier transport. She gave the box a hard look, and then shook her head, “No.” The winged cat said at last, “Leave him for last. I don’t want to let him loose in Primary Village.”

Of course. Hikari nodded and placed the box into her backpack, careful not to jar it and risk breaking the seals. They could have asked Takeru for help, she thought, but then discarded the notion. Tailmon had been adamant that she had to do this alone.

Elecmon was waiting for them. He didn’t say anything; merely spread a blanket out on the plush ground of Primary Village. Hikari gave him a small smile, but this was not really the time for chatter, and they all knew it. She gently lowered the sacks to the blanket, hearing the faint clink of metal against metal as the contents settled. Nefertimon stopped at the edge of the blanket, folding her wings onto her back and settling into a seated position. Suddenly Hikari was struck by how much like a sphinx she resembled, solemnly waiting.

“Set them out. Please.”

One by one, the golden rings were removed from the sack, bursting into dazzling light upon seeing the sun for the first time in years. They shone like a multitude of mini stars, laid out carefully on a sky of silver. Larger rings, tiny earrings—Hikari placed them all on the blanket in Primary Village.

Four sacks. Twenty-five rings per sack. That was a hundred digimon whose lives Vamdemon had ruined. That number was likely a drop in the bucket over the course of Vamdemon’s career, but it was those hundred they were mourning now.

At last the final sack was discarded, empty for one of Hikari’s old blankets. There was very little silver showing now amidst the sea of gold. Nefertimon bowed her head. The ring on her tail shimmered.

“It’s alright.” Elecmon had reared up onto his hind legs, his eyes fixed on the rings. “It’s all over now.”

He touched the nearest ring—one of the bigger ones—with his front paw. It blazed to life, one final act of drinking in the sun—and then it _shattered_. One by one the rings lit up like dying suns, going out like a supernova—a bang and a shimmer of data, swirling up and together into the cloudless sky.

Hikari watched in awe as it separated into a hundred tiny clouds, growing, and growing, forming into little transparent eggs right before her eyes. Each one twinkled in the sun, and slowly began to fall, drifting, drifting down to the egg dotted fields and hills of the Primary Village. Elecmon watched in awe, “These are the first eggs we’ve gotten in so long…” He whispered, tearing his eyes from the spectacle, and giving both Hikari and Nefertimon a deep, reverent bow. “Thank you both. Thank you for returning these eggs to the village. _Thank you_ for giving us hope that this drought will end.”

And then he scampered away, calling orders to his helpers to make sure each of the eggs would be catalogued and well cared for _if_ they hatched. No not if. _When._

The now egg-laden fields didn’t look so empty anymore, Hikari noticed with a lightening heart. It was as if there’d been a break in an overcast sky, allowing a single ray of light to shine through.

But it wasn’t done yet. One ring yet remained on the silver blanket. A dull, tarnished earring, barely large enough to slip on her finger. She knelt down and picked up the small worn trinket.

She felt the wooden box shudder in her backpack.

“One last thing…” She curled her hand around the piece of jewelry, clambering up onto Nefertimon’s back.

x-x-x

Tailmon watched as the box shuddered, the rip she’d torn in the seal widening with each violent shake. It _burst_ open, the lid tearing free from its hinges and soaring into the sky. Tailmon didn’t take her eyes from the being slowly rising from the smoking box. Hate-filled blue eyes glared at her, the white snakelike body curled tightly around a golden bullet casing. What should have been a bright, clear gold like the other rings was the same darkened, tarnished gold as the earring clamped in her paw.

She returned the glare, phantom fangs plunging into her neck, making her twitch in remembered pain. “I told you I would be back.”

 _“Foolish traitor. Hiding behind the Child. But no matter. No matter. You faaaaaaaailed. I felt the light go out.”_ Kudamon’s pointed face bobbed, “ _I_ told _you. I_ told y _ou— you would lead the darkness to the light! Traitor! Thrice over! You_ stink _of the dark world.”_

“The light didn’t go out.” Tailmon hissed, “We saved it. It is safe. _Hidden._ ”

 _“Kept it for yourself you mean. I see that ring. I see the black. You should be dark—why._ why.  why. _Why are you cleansed, while so many died? While poor Kudamon was left to suffer?”_

She took a breath. There was no point in trying to reason with him. Instead she tossed the earring at him. It landed in the grass, and Kudamon’s eyes zeroed in on the faintly gleaming ring. “I kept my promise. The Holy Rings have been returned. You have been freed.”

She watched the holy digimon scramble after the tiny ring, pink claws scratching feverishly at the dirt and grass surrounding it. He held it reverently in his paws, admiring the dull sheen. He carefully held it up to his ear, trying to piece the old battered lip into its place in his torn ear.

It flared to life, the bits of rust and black sheen flaking away to reveal the bright, pure gold of a holy ring. Kudamon hissed and tossed it away, the earring bounced and rolled amongst the grass, coming to rest against Tailmon’s bare paws.

_“It burns. It burns! You did something! Take it! Corruptor! Thief! Betrayer!”_

Writhing, the digimon rose into the air, fading body wrapped tightly about its golden cartridge. Tailmon didn’t say anything as she watched it race away through the air, yelling and hissing until she couldn’t see him anymore.

She wasn’t even angry anymore. She couldn’t be. It was just…too sad. His own power rejected him because of what circumstance had done to him.

She heard Hikari approaching from behind. She’d asked her partner to stay back while she dealt with this, but right now, she was glad for the extra support. Tailmon knelt to the grass, gathering the abandoned holy ring in her paw. She clenched her paw around it, staring back out in the direction Kudamon had vanished.

“I hope you can find yourself again, Kudamon.” She whispered to the ring. It was heating up in her paw. She knew it was glowing. She could feel the energy radiating off of it. Her own Tail Ring—the gift given to her by the Warrior of Light—would be shining in response. “The nightmare is over—you just need to wake up.”

Two things happened then. The curved edges of the ring vanished, the entire structure fading from her grasp. Then there was a sharp pain in her left ear, followed by intense heat. And then a weight. Small, but still there.

“Tailmon…The ring.”

“I know…” Her paw went to her ear, lightly touching the small circular earring now piercing it. A holy ring, freely given, even if in spite. It burned.

She shook her head and turned away. “Let’s go.”

x-x-x

“Oh! Ken, dear, could you come out here for a few minutes?”

Ken looked up from his computer screen, back toward the door to his room. It wasn’t closed—it hardly ever was these days. His mother’s head was peeking through, and he could tell she didn’t like bothering him. After years of a constantly locked door, she was still skittish about his room, and to see that just filled him with shame. He kept finding more damage. Would it ever truly be healed?

“I’ll be out in a moment.” She ducked out, and Ken quickly saved the document he’d been working on. He didn’t much care for literature reports, but they needed to be done if he was to salvage his scores for the year. He wouldn’t bring that sort of shame down on his parents. He couldn’t be the genius child they wanted, but he would do his best.

“Keeeeen!” He glanced up to see Minomon’s little green head popping up from over the rail of his bed. The little digimon usually would be lounging on his desk, asking questions constantly about whatever he was working on at the time. He’d grown bored of his current project however, and Ken couldn’t blame him. Ken was growing a little…wary of Genji’s escapades. He would almost swear that specific teacher had assigned these passages just to embarrass him. “Could you get me something to eat?”

“Of course.”

Ken stood up from his desk, eyes flicking unconsciously to a splotch of yellow peeking out from under the desk. Remembered pain pulsed through his palm, leading Ken to grab a set of gloves from where they’d been sitting on the corner of the desk. Luckily it had been cold lately, with the winter holidays creeping closer. He slipped the knit cloth over the bandages.

He nudged the shard of plastic further under the desk and then turned away, making his way out into the hallway. His mother wasn’t waiting for him, but he could hear her in the entry way to the apartment. Ken frowned, what did she want him for anyway? He made his way toward her voice, only glancing briefly at the closed door one down from his. It had been almost a week since the disastrous mission to Vamdemon’s castle. Gennai had forwarded a forged note for the school to take care of the absence, but… His parents were worried.

And…so was Ken.

He felt horribly guilty. He was supposed to have gone with them that day. If he had been there, he knew Daisuke would have insisted on going with Hikari. Just one more person on that mission might have made all the difference.

Hikari had been the only one to visit Gennai since Miyako had returned, mostly healed. She hadn’t said much to them upon returning; only that Kimura wasn’t taking the situation well.

Maybe…maybe he should visit.

He hadn’t gone since. Not with the nightmares keeping him up. Those first few days after the Trial of Courage…he and Kimura had both walked in silence. Sleepless nights led to dark days. He didn’t ask what Kimura’s nightmares had been. Kimura didn’t ask him.

The night before that mission they’d stayed up together, watching the clock.

“I’m going back.” Kimura had announced. Back. Back to the Digital World. They’d both turned down Taichi’s requests during the rest of the week. “I won’t LET him rule me, even through my memories.”

Ken didn’t ask who _he_ was. He’d just tightened his fingers around his teacup, staring down into the steaming murky depths.

“I—not yet.” Ken shook his head. He wasn’t surprised to hear Kimura rise from the chair, or even the rattle of the teacup as it was placed on the table. “Not yet.”

He was surprised to feel a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He raised his head, meeting the eyes of the older teen standing beside him, “Don’t rush it. Fresh wounds are the most painful.”

Ken watched as Kimura gave him a small smile, and turned to head for the kitchen, carrying the empty teacup to the kitchen.

“Wait!”

Kimura paused, glancing back in the doorway.

“Did…the nightmare go away?”

Kimura remained quiet, leaning back against the wooden door-frame.

“No. No. Not really. You just learn to live with it.”

Ken shook off the memory, and then realized he’d stopped in front of Osamu’s door. He really should go back... He’d have to see what the others planned to do. They’d been quiet on the Digital World front, with all the Sanctums found. The others had done some halfhearted spire hunting but…

He moved on. His mother was waiting in the entryway, chatting amicably with a teenage boy Ken had never met before. He had the wildest brown hair Ken had ever seen, and that was saying something knowing Taichi. Most of it was stuffed under a backwards baseball cap, which had a set of square-ish goggles strapped to it. His mother stopped talking when she saw him enter the room, “Oh, Ken! There you are. This is Takuya-kun. He’s here looking for Kouji-kun. I figured you would know how best to get in contact with him. Why don’t you two go talk in the sitting room, and I’ll put together some snacks?”

With her job as a hostess partially complete, she bustled off, leaving Ken alone with this strange boy. The boy’s tan face broke into a pleased grin, and he stuck out his hand for Ken to shake, “Your mother is a really nice lady. My name is Kanbara Takuya. I thought Kouji was staying here, but apparently he’s not? Where’s the jerk wandered off to?”

Ken didn’t respond right away, eyeing the cheery boy warily as he took his hand in greeting. Given Kimura’s reluctance to talk about his home, AND the fact that the school transfer was just a ruse, he wouldn’t have expected a _friend_ of his to show up here. Maybe he was from school? Kimura had likely spoken to _someone_ during the week he attended. “Ichijouji Ken. Let’s…sit down for a bit.”

“Of course. Lead the way!”

Normally Ken’s father would be watching television at this time of night, whether it be the nightly news or a historical drama, but it seemed like his mother had forcibly ejected him from the room given the newspaper still lying half open on the arm of his dad’s favorite chair, and the fact that the television was still turned on, only muted, silent images flicking on the screen.

“I’m afraid Kimura has been called home due to a family emergency. I don’t have his phone-number, but I can pass on a message if you like.”

“Kimura?!” The boy guffawed, green eyes sparkling, “That’s his brother. No, I’m looking for a _Minamoto_ Kouji. About yey tall, prickly as a porcupine, but really just a softie once you get to know him. He’s really attached this old bandana of his, and likes to tie back his hair with it.”

 _Minamoto._ Gennai _had_ called Kouji by a different last name when he’d been working on the school enrollment. It could have been Minamoto. Ken found he couldn’t recall, but the rest of the description fit. He frowned, that threw his school theory out of the water, “Are you a friend of his before he transferred here?”

“Yep. And I know about the Digital World so there’s no need to use the stupid cover story.” The teen had flopped down onto one of the cushions surrounding the low table in the center of the room, crossing his legs comfortably beneath him. He waved a gloved hand vaguely in the air, “I know he came here to help you guys out, but I’ve gotta talk to him about something that’s going on back home. I was told he’s staying here, but your mom said he hasn’t been here for a few days.”

Ken was taken aback by the sheer _bluntness_ of this teen. “He did mention other Chosen—are you one of them?”

“Kinda. Consider me retired though. No digivice.” Takuya shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jacket.

“Well. Taking you to see him will be problematic then.” What was it with goggle-bearing chosen being annoyingly straightforward? Ken felt uncomfortable giving so much information to an unknown, but the sheer fact that he _knew_ about the Digital World gave loads of credibility to his story. It also reminded Ken of the name change. At the time he’d figured it was so as to obscure his records, should someone in the school system try and check up on the new transfer student. “He is currently staying in the Digital World. I am not sure if I could take you through the portal without a digivice.”

“Really? Geez, I should have totally checked there first. I thought he was staying here.” Takuya scratched his head, messing his hair up even further. Ken shrugged, “He was, but…there were complications. A friend of ours is working on fixing it.”

He felt bad calling near complete _blindness_ a complication. Really, he understood why Kimura didn’t want to deal with school on top of something like that. Kimura’s blindness and Miyako’s injuries had really put a downer on everyone. They’d never really had any of the chosen get majorly hurt before. The digimon healed fast enough it didn’t seem to bother them but…

“Well, just give me the sector number and I can make my way there—I’ve got my own way of getting to the digital world.” Takuya gave him a cheeky grin, just as Ken’s mom came into the room. She blinked at the two of them, Takuya sitting casually at the low table, Ken on the sofa, and smiled. She offered them a tray with a few selections of snacks and even some rice balls Ken knew she must have just whipped together.

“I hope you two are hungry!”


	18. Inter-Dimensional Interlude

Anyamon sprawled on the warm veranda, drinking in the heat from the sun. He could hear Kouji’s labored breathing among the varied insect and wind driven noises that wafted through Gennai’s garden. He’d discovered over the last few days—since Gennai had thrown his hands up in agitation and threw them out during the middle of the day, grumbling that he needed some peace from the sulking—that sunbathing really was the most heavenly thing imaginable. Sure it could get uncomfortable really quickly given his thick fur, but he’d figured out the limits he could take, and really there was a rather convenient shadow just mere feet away, cast by the overhanging if he needed it.

“ _Hah!”_

His choice of activity was much more relaxing than his brother’s. Anyamon cracked a lazy eye open, the view of the garden unfolding before him. Kouji had found a pole of a suitable size—well, he’d had Anyamon find it, but that wasn’t the point—and was currently going through a set of kendo exercises. Since they didn’t really have a change of clothes, Kouji’d removed his jacket—Anyamon was using it as a pillow right now, actually—and the yellow shirt was nearly soaked through with sweat. He’d have to make sure to steal it tonight and toss it in the lake, or something. Kouji’d tied his bandana around his eyes, more to give him a sense of being blindfolded rather than being _blind,_ and his ponytail had unraveled sometime during the afternoon. It all led to a rather messy picture.

But Anyamon was relieved that Kouji’d figured out some way to channel his energy. He’d hated seeing him sulking as much as Gennai had. After the prospect of returning to school came and went, he’d made the decision that he was going to figure out how to get around _despite_ the handicap.

Kouichi had never been one for Kendo. Or physical training period. Oh, he knew how to handle a staff, but that was completely Lowemon’s influence. Kouji’d gone into the Digital World with at least a basic instruction, and Wolfmon had only fanned the flames.

He’d never seen his brother practice before. He didn’t know much about the forms, or the strikes other than you generally tried to hit people with the stick, but he could tell that the daily work-outs were helping. Kouji wasn’t so broody. He was too tired to be. He stumbled less. Moved more confidently.

So, even if Kouji wanted to waste a perfectly good day on Kendo practice rather than the heavenly art of sunbathing, Anyamon wasn’t going to stop him.

Anyamon settled back down to drift back to sleep, but the wind shifted. A strange scent drifted to his nose and had him sitting up ramrod straight. Ears perked he began to listen, making sure to identify and filter out anything he was used to. There. There was the crunch of shoes walking up the gravel path. Very few digimon actually wore shoes. But the scent. It didn’t quite smell right. It wasn’t one of the other Children. He knew most of their scents by now. Besides, Hikari had been the only one to visit, and that was a few days ago.

The footsteps were getting closer; Anyamon slowly rose, flexing his claws so they deliberately scraped against the wood. Kouji paused mid-swing, tilting his head at the cue, “What is it?”

“Visitor.”

Gennai occasionally had digimon visiting him, but the man was more of a hermit than anything. Plus. Any digimon visiting him would probably go through the front gate, and not around the path leading to the back.

Kouji must have realized it too. While he did lower the make-shift practice sword, he didn’t let it drop or put it away. Instead he leaned against it, using his hand to push some of the sweat-soaked hairs away from his face.

“Huh. I didn’t quiet expect this.” The visitor rounded the gate in the wall, staring at the two of them with amused green eyes, “Has Kouji developed an unhealthy obsession with Bruce Lee, or is there some other reason for the bandana thing?”

Anyamon stared. He knew that face. That voice. Those clothes. It was Kanbara Takuya. Or it would be if Takuya had suddenly decided to grow his hair out, get a tan, AND started wearing colored contacts.

But Kouji couldn’t see any of that, and the voice was a dead ringer for their friend, and former Warrior of Fire. He took a step forward. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What? No “Nice to see yous” or “How’s it going?” I’m hurt.” The grin on his face and the tease in his voice contradicted the statement. Kouji only snorted in response, crossing his arms, “Anyway—the answer is checking up on you. Their August Celestial-ness said you were having some trouble.”

During the exchange, and some back and forth snarking that sounded as if they were all hanging out at Takuya’s house and not in a garden in an alternate Digital World, Anyamon stalked forward. There was something off. Something wrong. It wasn’t even the superficial differences—given the wacky time differences during their last adventure, a bunch of time could have passed—but something in the scent. There was human, of course…but there was something else…

“Ken’s family is worried about’cha, you know.” Takuya was saying, gloved hands stuck in his pockets. Like Kouji, he was wearing the same clothes he had been during the last adventure. “I checked there first, since that’s where I heard you were staying last. Why did you take Kouichi’s name, anyway? Ken seemed surprised when I mentioned your real name…”

The scent was stronger now that he was closer. The mention of Ken also cleared up something. The majority of the human scent was a lingering one. One that he recognized. Takuya seemed not to pay him too much attention other than a bright smile and a “Hey Kouichi.” That was pretty normal too. Kouichi always found more entertainment in watching him interact with his brother than actually talking himself.

It clicked, and Anyamon bared his fangs, “He isn’t Takuya.”

But instead of the outrage he would have expected from such an accusation, the Takuya-sound-alike merely laughed and waved it off, “Only technically”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Kouji. He sounded ticked. “And what do you mean nii-san? That he’s not Takuya?”

“He smells like a digimon.” Anyamon inserted himself between the two teens. It wasn’t just smelled _like._ He’d been thrown off because there _was_ human in there, but the majority was digimon. It wasn’t even like Gennai, who didn’t smell like either.

“I never tried to trick anyone.” The digimon responded—and his _mannerisms_ were all Takuya too. That same sheepish grin, eyes closed, a gloved hand scratching at the back of his head. “I know you guys as well as Takuya did when you left the Digital World, although it has been a few years since then. I came because the Celestials thought you were in trouble, but you seem to be your old prickly self. If you would take off that silly blindfold you could easily see I’m not trying to hide anything.”

And he wasn’t. Takuya’s skin was paler. His eyes were brown. His hair was _much_ shorter. This imposter had thick, wild, reddish hair tied back into a tail at the base of his neck. He hadn’t even said that he _was_ Takuya—he just hadn’t dispelled the notion when it was assumed.

x-x-x

“Then _who_ are you?”

Kouji demanded. His hands were shaking. He willed them to stop, but they were still shaking. He was nervous. The potshot at his blindfold reminded him that he _couldn’t_ see. If there was a fight—he’d been practicing, but a few paltry days wouldn’t be able to make up for a lifetime of sight. He would have to spirit evolve, and with that came the other kettle of worms. The other hadn’t said anything since Sunday, since the damning last statement.

_So. You truly think of me as a tool._

After that, he didn’t have a guarantee Akemon would be willing to work with him again.

“Me?” The imposter seemed to ponder it for a moment, “Well. The easy answer is Kanbara Takuya, but I don’t think you guys want that. The best answer would be that I’m the new Warrior of Fire.”

He felt Akemon’s interested presence creeping forward in the back of his mind. Kouji’s grip on his practice sword tightened. For once he wasn’t resentful to feel that touch. To his surprise, it didn’t do much more. Shadows didn’t draw themselves into the darkness around him. Akemon didn’t come closer. He said nothing. Just listened. Kouji decided to ignore him for now, instead latching onto the statement. _New? New Warriors?_

“If there’s new warriors, then why were _we_ plucked out of our lives for this little adventure?”

That had always been a sore point. Kouji had accepted Gennai’s implication that it was spirit evolution that they needed, but if there were New Warriors, then why the hell weren’t they sent? Especially if they were digimon. The whole reason he’d been saddled with Akemon had been because only digimon could pass the barriers. Oh. And playing pretend with the chosen.

“We aren’t as strong as you.” The imposter responded easily with a shrug, “A digimon alone would never reach the potential as one working with a human. I may have been born _from_ a human, but I’d still need the other Takuya if anything major were to happen.”

 _Need?_ But Kouji wasn’t given the opportunity to ask. Surprisingly it was Kouichi who jumped in, “What do you mean _born from_?”

“It’s simple really.” He _really_ sounded like Takuya. He could almost see the delighted smugness on his friend’s face; especially during one of the few times he was actually able to one-up Kouji. They had a bit of a rivalry going on. One that Kouji usually won, with the occasional…mishaps. “I was created from the data Takuya left behind.”

_I was created for you._

He kept his face blank as he began to fire off rapid questions—where did they first meet?—“I ran into you on the train on the way to the station. You were looking at me like I was an _idiot_. It really ticked me off.”—why did he decide to answer the email?—“It was Souta’s birthday and I was bored. I was jealous the little twerp was getting all the attention, and he was being a bit of a brat about it.”—and on and on.

“Are you quite _done_ with the twenty questions yet? I did come for a reason, you know!”

Kouji grunted and spun around, taking a moment to form the map in his head. Then he stormed off, leaving the Takuya-sound-alike behind. He ignored the shouted, “Oi! Kouji! Get back here!”

But he wasn’t prepared for the hand that grabbed onto the back of his shirt, yanking him backwards. It wasn’t a very hard yank, and normally would have just made him stagger. But it upset his carefully crafted sense of balance and where he was. He was lost in the void. He was falling. He cursed, flinging an arm out to catch his fall—but he didn’t know where the ground was supposed to be.

“Oomph.” And then he wasn’t anymore. “Geez, chill out already. You almost hit me. Walking around with a blindfold is going to get yourself hurt, no matter how easy Bruce Lee makes it look.”

“Don’t touch me.” Kouji hissed, twisting out of the holds the imposter had on his arm and shoulder. He had to use more force that he’d thought—the grip was firm—and ended up stumbling from the momentum. He caught himself with the practice sword and straightened, shooting a glare vaguely in the direction he thought the imposter to be. For all he knew it would completely miss. And that thought made him angrier.

“It doesn’t matter if I wear it or _not.”_ He felt the guiding touch, but he was too angry to care as he yanked off his bandana. Even if his eyes were useless, they still stung from being shut for so long. “So kindly do _not_ pull on me again.”

He left stunned silence behind him, and stalked off. He ignored Gennai’s “Hey now, what’s going on out here?” and bypassed the entrance to the house entirely.

He wanted the rhythm of the waves and the teasing of the wind unhindered by the garden’s walls. He could go further down the beach, but he didn’t know the terrain as well as he did the house and its immediate exterior.

At last he found himself sitting on the edge of the deck, staring off at some point in the void that he knew was a wide lake.

_“I was created from the data Takuya left behind.”_

_I was created for you._

“Were you?” Kouji bit out, asking the wind, “Was it the same for _you?”_

It didn’t answer.

_“The easiest answer is Kanbara Takuya, but…”_

_You know that isn’t my name right now._

x-x-x

“I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting the Celestials to send a messenger so soon.” Gennai eyed the boy, who squirmed under his gaze. It was a guilty squirm.

“Well. They might not have sent me…exactly.” The self-introduced “Takuya” admitted. Anyamon snorted, his rolled eyes indicating he wasn’t surprised at the admission. “Hey! I overheard them saying my best friend was in some sort of trouble—of _course_ I was going to try and help.”

“By your own admission, you’ve never actually met Kouji before today.”

“Yeah. Well.” Gennai waited patiently for the rest of the statement. “It’s…complicated. I can’t just forget the guy. Not after everything we went through.”

“It sounds to me like your data wasn’t reconfigured properly.” For most digimon they lost most memories upon rebirth. Only those with extremely strong ties retained the level of recall this digimon claimed to have. Patamon’s initial reconfiguration had been an anomaly, but later discussion with the winged digimon had him admitting that most of the Devimon encounters were very vague impressions. Only Takeru was clear. “It might also be that human data behaves differently.”

It was an intriguing idea. Most of the data left behind by the chosen children was absorbed by their digimon during digivolution. It was one of the reasons their partners grew in power so fast in comparison with other digimon. Really, he could devote his life to the study of the science around the Chosen Children, but now wasn’t the time nor place.

“That’s what Cherubimon said.” Takuya shrugged, “The Spirits of Fire bonded with m—Takuya. When he left…well. I’m what became of the data.”

“Did this happen to _everyone?_ ” Both Gennai and the other boy turned to Anyamon. The cat was pacing back and forth. “All of us?”

“Where did you think Anyamon came from?” There was a distinct ‘duh’ sound from the human-looking digimon, “Honestly, I think Anyamon is older than me, and they said I was the first. You were _completely_ made of data.”

A _fascinating_ phenomenon. Yes. Gennai could see it. These Warriors did not have any digimon partners. They were bound to the remnants of the power of long dead digimon, and the Digital World was about constant evolution. Constant rebirth. Once that power had been freed, given the chance to become stronger…The bond between human and digimon…

Not for the first time he burned to leave this sector behind, to explore and study all of the different instances of the digital world out there. It was an old hunger, first peaked when Ryo Akiyama and Cyberdramon first appeared in this sector, years and years ago. His Order knew about the other sectors, but barring extenuating circumstances they remained painfully separate.

And he knew he would never be able to follow those desires. He was the last of his Order, bound to oversee _this_ Digital World. He was fortunate to be able to get this _glimpse_ of the workings of a different world. Fortunate. It took the misfortune of his world to give him this taste. It left the elation diluted, tinged by the damage done to his protectorate. The last thread of evolution was held in the possession of a teen aged human, at odds with himself and all the more dangerous for it.

“You say Kouji and Akemon are butting heads?” Takuya mused aloud. He’d crossed his legs in the chair he’d been sitting in, scratching his head as he thought about the situation Anyamon and Gennai had just described to him, “That really shouldn’t be possible. Speaking from experience. My first real memory as…well…me, and not just Takuya-the-human, was when he took the Dark Trailmon. We were…we were synced. One digimon. One person. There shouldn’t be enough of a difference to cause the split you guys are describing.” He waved his hand helplessly, “You said you’ve had no problem, Anyamon?”

The big cat shook his head, “I don’t…have any memory of being _only_ Anyamon, like you describe, but…This…feels normal. It feels right.”

“There ya go. We’re a little different, but in the end we are digimon. When we’re with our human, everything will work out. I can’t tell you how often I wish Takuya would come back…”

“Even if it means an end to your independence?” Anyamon asked quietly. The room was silent.

“Yes.” The moments before his answer had been painfully long as the hybrid thought about it. “Because it would mean I am where I belong.”

x-x-x

Footsteps approached, accompanied by the scratch of claws against the wood. Kouji almost would have thought it was Anyamon, hunting him down after having given him so long to cool off. Kouji wasn’t angry anymore. He was just tired. Sick. Empty.

But there were only two feet, not four paws. Kouji pulled his knees up to his chest, crossing his arms on top of his knees. A weight settled on the wood beside him. Kouji ignored it.

“Anyamon told me what happened.”

That wasn’t Takuya. Kouji kept staring ahead. He didn’t care. He didn’t care what this strange digimon was or was not. “His name is Kouichi.”

An exasperated sigh, “Look. What you are doing _isn’t_ healthy. You are _human._ We get it. But right now you are also digimon too. And smothering that part of you is only going to make things worse.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone wearing my friend’s face.”

“But I’m _not._ I’m Flamemon now.” A gloved hand, but not the leather of Takuya’s usual gloves, grabbed his arm, gently, but firmly pulling it away. It was metal, a gauntlet. “Let me show you.”

Kouji tried to pull away, but the grip was strong. His fingers twitched as they were held, and moved along a pointed ear. Into thick hair, stiff and long. Then they touched bone, peeking out of the nest of strands. Two circular plateaus. Horns. Where Takuya’s goggles would normally be.

“So you admit to trying to trick us earlier.” Kouji grumbled, pulling his hand away when the grip loosened. Flamemon laughed, “No, no. That form is as natural as this one. As my beast form. A name is just a name. It is an indication of what I am _right now_.”

That…was interesting news. “You have a beast form?”

“Yeap. I’m the sum of two spirits and a human. Of course I’d be all three.”

It was something he’d never thought about it. Even…back then…Angewo—Ophani—the _message_ had said their…rookie forms were created from the spirits. But there were two spirits. Human and beast. Why was Akemon a beast?

The beast spirits were always stronger. The answer came readily—from his memory? Or from Akemon? He couldn’t tell. But he remembered the sheer overwhelming power of Garmmon, so much greater than the controlled precision of Wolfmon. If you were to prepare for a battle, you’d choose the strongest weapon.

“Does…Akemon have a humanoid form?”

He didn’t realize he’d said the question aloud. And then he mentally cursed. He wasn’t supposed to care.

“Of course you do.”

x-x-x

They sat in silence for a while, Kouji lost in his thoughts. Of course, if half of the things Flamemon had said were true, then he, like Takuya, couldn’t be quiet for too long.

“You are trying to force a circular block into a square hole, after you’ve yanked it out of the circle to begin with.” Flamemon said at length. He’d leaned back onto his elbows, legs dangling over the edge of the deck. His clawed feet swung idly. “Just let it be, and things will work out.”

That drew a reaction from the stoic teen. An amused snort. Good. Humor was good.

“You spent this long thinking that up, didn’t you?”

“Hey! I’m rather proud of that you know.” Flamemon sat up, sending a playful punch at Kouji’s shoulder. To his surprise the teen caught it.

“Of course. I have to admit it’s a marginal improvement over your usual blathering.”

Flamemon bristled; he was just trying to help. For his friend. For…well, in a way his brother. Akemon had been created the same way he had. He knew Kouji could be snappy when he was ti—

Wait. That was a smile, ghosting across the other boy’s face. Flamemon grinned. It was a start.


	19. Into the Spider's Web

_I think I should keep out of this one. Wormmon and I do not have a Digimental—we would be useless to you all.”_

Daisuke fumed at his D-Terminal, and the too politely worded refusal. He had half a mind to just storm on over to Ken’s apartment and drag him back to the computer lab by force. His irritation was plain for all to see, and Takeru just shook his head, “He said no, didn’t he? Honestly? I don’t blame him.”

“I refuse to let him lock himself away and sulk.” Daisuke furiously typed out another plea. He’d worked too hard to get Ken to even begin to accept his role as a part of the group to let a silly trial to have them back at Step One.

It was even beyond step one, honestly. At least back then Ken had decided to take matters into his own hands and _do_ something about it. Isolating himself—even more so since Kouji was now staying with Gennai—Daisuke could easily see that guilt and grief drowning the other chosen.

“Geez, give the guy some space.”

“It’s been three weeks!” He didn’t mean to shout, but he threw up his hands in exasperation anyway when an identical message beeped onto the D-Terminal. He had one more move to play, but he really didn’t want to be pushed that far. Even he would feel like a jerk by forcing old memories forward in an attempt to get Ken to come.

“Things can hurt for a long, long time, Daisuke.” Hikari.

She shared a look with TS, and that just ticked Daisuke off even more. She always sided with him. There was _so_ much history there. History that Daisuke would never be able to surmount. It made his attempts to woo Kairi _away_ from TJ always feel like he was fighting an uphill battle.

Then again, Daisuke was used to fighting uphill battles. That didn’t mean he didn’t resent them.

“Look guys. I want Ken to come as much as the next person, but we need to get going” Miyako cut in, pointing at the clock ticking away on the wall, “Kouji’s meeting us there, right? It’s probably not a good idea to leave him alone considering…”

Of course. They all knew _why_ the other Chosen was staying with Gennai. Daisuke even felt guilty—just a little! If he’d actually fought to go with Hikari’s team, then he’d have prevented that from happening. Of course he would have been able to protect Hikari much better, but he had to admit that Kouji did a decent job. He may be a jerk, but no one deserved to go _blind_.

At least it made for a convenient reason to skip school.

Which led to another reason Daisuke thought Ken needed to get his butt over here. Kouji was helping them out after being _blinded._ It made Ken’s absence sting rather irritatingly.

Grumbling, Daisuke shot off one last email.

_We’re going on ahead._

_Arukenimon has been sighted. She’s been gathering Dark Spires._

_The coords are XXX,XXX. Pack a sweater._

Daisuke shrugged his heavy jacket on. He knew that would make him come. The Dark Spires would guilt him into it.

x-x-x

Travel to and from the Digital World got much easier with practice, Takeru adjusted to the shift with ease born of long experience. It was always fascinating to see the world build up around him, out of the multicolored light from the transfer.

This time, there wasn’t much world to see, and the first thing Takeru noticed was the sharp blast of cold wind cutting deep through the multiple layers of clothes he’d sweated in the entire day. White stretched out surrounding their landing point, a lone snow-covered TV on the edge of a blizzard bound valley. There was a cliff to their backs, which cut off the wind from that direction, but it was relentless from every other. It hit him like a truck—sinking deep into his bones.

Suddenly Takeru was thankful for Gennai’s warnings to dress warmly, no matter how uncomfortable he’d been in the heated school. Patamon wasn’t so lucky. Takeru felt the digimon huddled against him, shivering in his arms. Takeru held him tightly, his words lost in the howling wind. He pulled a scarf out of his bag, draping it over Patamon’s exposed side. Where the hell were they supposed to meet Kouji in this mess? He couldn’t see anything but white, wind driven snow. The others were indistinct blob shapes huddled around the TV.

“Dress warmly!” Daisuke was shouting, just barely audible, “No one said anything about a blizzard!”

“There’s a cave!” Someone shouted. Hikari? Takeru couldn’t tell. He could see a dark shape pushing its way through the snow—too large to be the digimon, but too small to be one of the other kids. It shuddered, tossing off the snow that had settled on its back. It was making rounds between the Chosen—passing on a message?

 _Anyamon!_ Takeru would have exclaimed in relief if his teeth weren’t chattering enough to make any words unintelligible.

The blobs that were the other Chosen had already begun moving, toward the cliff. Of course. Any cave would have to be in the rock. Takeru told Patamon to hold on just a little longer, although he doubted the little digimon could hear him.

The trudge through the snow felt agonizingly slow. It all blurred together, stretching on and on into driving wind and numbing cold. One step after another. One. Step. After. Another.

And then…Takeru saw a flickering light from behind a piled snowbank. It was piled high—almost unnaturally—to act as a windbreak for the opening in the rock behind it.

And inside the cave was _warmth._ Glorious warmth. It seeped into Takeru’s bones as he scrambled inside with the others. A fire. _A fire._ The cave had a decently low ceiling—Takeru had to crouch—but soon he was releasing a shivering Patamon to bask near the fire’s crackling. Takeru pulled off his gloves—even with them on his fingers were stiff and numb.

“Whose bright i-idea was it t-t-to c-c-call us here in a b-b-b-blizzzzard?” Daisuke managed out between teeth chattering, voicing the thought that was on everyone’s mind.

“It was actually kinda nice for a snow-covered wasteland up until a little while ago.”

Snort. “Don’t encourage him, unless you want him to complain some more.”

 _That_ was Kouji. The other?

“And w-w-who the h-heck-k are y-you?”

An easy smile came from the goggled boy sitting cross-legged beside Kouji on the other side of the fire. He had a charred stick and was stirring up the coals, increasing the blessed warmth in the smallish cave. Takeru didn’t even _care_ who he was at this point, if he was the one responsible for the fire.

“D-daisuke! D-don’t be rude.” Hikari chided. She was shivering. Her soaking jacket had been tossed off. Takeru untangled his arm and pulled her closer to the fire. Miyako scooted to the side to let her into the circle. She’d been one of the last ones in.

“Aw, don’t worry about it. My name’s Takuya—ouch! What’s that for?” He glared at Kouji, who’d just elbowed him, “I know you don’t like it, but you _have_ to admit it’s easier this way.”

Strangely enough, Kouji just grumbled something and crossed his arms, glaring into the fire. Takeru tried not to think about how the light didn’t reflect off blank eyes. It was unnerving. Hikari had warned them. She’d also warned them that Kouji didn’t take anyone pointing out his handicap well.

“Anyway.” Takuya poked at the fire again, “I’m one of Kouji’s friends. I’m here to make sure he doesn’t run into a wall or something—” He quickly dodged another elbow, nearly landing in Iori’s lap as he did so—there wasn’t a lot of extra space here. “It’s nice to meet ya’ll.”

“Where’s your digimon?” Surprisingly, Iori was the one to ask. The question made Takeru look around—Iori was right. Other than their own Digimon and Anyamon, there weren’t any others.

“I’m afraid I don’t even have a digivice. I’m retired, you see…”

“Are you done chatting?” Kouji snapped after a while. After the initial bitterness, Daisuke and Takuya hit it off surprisingly well. Takeru couldn’t help but laugh at the bonding of the goggle-fanatics. Miyako also warmed up to the newcomer. Iori was quiet as usual, watching and listening to the conversation intently.

Hikari hadn’t said much, falling silent and staring into the fire. Takeru watched her, a growing sense of unease gnawing at his gut. He’d caught Hikari staring off into space more times than he liked—it reminded him painfully of the first time the Dark Ocean had spirited her away. He’d asked her about it once during class and she’d flushed guiltily.

_“Oh don’t worry. It’s not that.” She began toying with her pencil, “After…all that…I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”_

No one had heard the full details. Tailmon wasn’t talking, and nobody was willing to ask. She’d nearly been killed, that was one of the few details that Taichi had let slip. Hikari just clammed up and shook her head. Miyako was more talkative, but she still had been favoring her arm left arm when she thought no one was watching. She had quite the detailed accounts leading up to the gate room, but it faded as they were attacked by Cerberumon, and Hikari and Kouji were lost.

Takeru wrapped his arm around her shoulders—flushing at her startled look—in a quick hug. “You doing okay, ‘Kari?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” The embarrassment, and even the knowing smirk he was getting from Miyako, was totally worth it for that thankful smile she sent him. Daisuke didn’t notice, so they avoided that withering glare, thankfully.

“It’s not like we have much else to do.” Takuya shrugged, “Until the blizzard lets up we’d just be stumbling around like a bunch of animated popsicles.”

“It’s slowing down.” Anyamon reported, and Takeru was startled to notice that he _hadn’t_ noticed Anyamon leave. The cat sat in the entrance to the cave, shaking off the snow clinging stubbornly to his thick black fur. The snow that didn’t get knocked off quickly melted, “Gennai mentioned the storms in this area are rather short lived.”

“It would have been nice to be warned about the storms.” Iori mentioned quietly, rubbing his hands near the fire again. He had brought an extra sweater, but against the force of the gale outside it had probably felt like paper. “I hadn’t…quite expected the strength of the cold.”

“Sorry.” The cat almost seemed to shrug, giving his coat once last shake. He skirted the campfire, Takeru losing sight of him for a moment as he passed behind them. He felt Hikari stiffen next to him, and Takeru frowned. He watched Hikari’s face carefully, and only some of the tension was released when Anyamon re-entered her sight. He settled a little behind his partner—not too near the fire, and even blocked from most of the light by the Chosen and Digimon huddled around it. “I’ve scouted a bit of the valley—I think I know where Arukenimon’s den is.”

“Is it where we thought it was?” Kouji asked quickly, not giving any of the others a chance to say anything.

“Yes.”

“Oh goody. I love small, dark tunnels.” Takuya joked, “At least Anyamon will be at home.”

“Could we get some explanation to those of us who just got here?” Daisuke inserted himself into the conversation. “And what did Gennai mean about her gathering Dark Spires? Has she been making an army of Dark Spire digimon? We should probably know this stuff before we go into _anywhere_ that is small and dark.”

“Plus. We’d need to make sure we’d have enough room to fight, if we need to.” Iori added after Daisuke was finished, “Our Armor Digivolutions aren’t quite as large as our Champions, but enclosed spaces might be problematic should we be attacked.”

There was silence as Takuya shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’ve never met you guys before.”

Kouji’s dead black eyes stared unseeing over the rest of them. No one asked him.

“It should be enough for Nefertimon and Halsemon.” Finally the words were dragged out of Anyamon.”As for the rest…you’ll see once the storm clears.”

And they did.

Once the howling of the wind died down, one by one the Chosen and their digimon crept out of the shelter of the cave. They blinked in the harsh sunlight, reflected on the unbroken sea of snow before them.

Unbroken save for the dark monolithic figures of the Dark Spires jutting harshly out of the white covering, splitting the sky with their stark contrast.

And it wasn’t just a couple. It wasn’t even dozens.

There was at _least_ a hundred. Perhaps twice that number. Takeru was dumbfounded—he hadn’t even known there were that many _left._ Months worth of spire hunting. Months worth of defeating Arukenimon’s dark digimon…and there were this _many?_ He knew Ken was the only one able to create them—Arukenimon _couldn’t_ have made them—could she?

“How did we miss these?” Miyako sounded nearly furious. She and Izzy had been the ones monitoring the digital world’s maps, pinpointing the unique signal given off by the Dark Spires. As they grew to be fewer in number, it was harder to locate the signal, especially if they were placed really far apart, but… “We should have hit an area of _this_ concentration when we _first_ started. There’s no _way._ No _way._ ”

“It wasn’t here before yesterday.” Kouji’s casual remark caught the unwavering attention of the other Chosen. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, and a long study staff—an honest to god staff, carved and metal tipped and everything—held casually in one hand and being tapped impatiently against the stone floor. Takuya had come out behind him, carrying a rather large backpack. The boy wasn’t smiling now, but he wasn’t as grim as the others. Of course. Why would they be? They didn’t know the mess BlackWarGreymon had caused.

And _this_ was more than a hundred Dark Spires.

She wouldn’t try that again, would she?

BlackWarGreymon had been too powerful. Had actually had his own will. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

But she was the only one in the Digital World with any interest in the Dark Spires other than breaking them down.

“Well! It just means they’re all in one place for us to tear down!” Daisuke cracked his knuckles, pulling out his D-3, “C’mon Veemon.”

“Got it Daisuke!” The little dragon jumped up, one just pumping into the air, “I’m ready when you are!”

Takeru wasn’t paying much attention to them, shading his eyes and squinting. There were faint dots in the distance, slowly growing larger, “You all might need to evolve. We’ve got company.”

Hikari grabbed her camera and held it to her eyes, fiddling with the zoom. She dropped it as if it were on fire, hands going to her own D-3 and whirling on the others, “It’s a swarm!”

“ _Armor Digivolve…!”_ Five colored beams of light shot into the sky, five voices rang out in near unison.

Takeru saw the swarm move, attracted by the burst of power and light. If he thought maybe it was some innocent digimon whose home had been invaded by the Spires, he thought again once they were close enough to make out.

Digimon all native to forests, not a wintery wasteland.

“ _Flamedramon, the Fire of Courage!”_

_“Halsemon, the Wings of Love!”_

_“Digmon, the Drill of Knowledge.”_

_“Nefertimon, the Angel of Light!”_

_“Pegasusmon—Flying Hope!”_

The buzzing of many insect wings drowned out almost everything. Takeru saw Anyamon and Kouji share a poignant look before the cat leapt forward, no effort made to digivolve at all. He probably didn’t need to. Takeru had heard he’d taken out a Flymon on his own already.

Here we go again.

x-x-x

“Ken. Aren’t you going to check it?”

Ken didn’t look away from his screen. Minomon was balancing on the tip of his pinecone, wavering back and forth rhythmically. He knew what his digimon was talking about. His D-Terminal was shoved under a set of textbooks, the New Message indicator flashing a steady rhythm. “It’s just Daisuke.”

“But what if it’s important?”

Ken shook his head, “It’s just Daisuke.”

He wasn’t ready.

“It’s been flashing for two _hours_.”

“That’s because I haven’t checked it.”

He had given up trying to respond when Daisuke had refused to take ‘No’ for an answer. His D-Terminal was shoved to the side, and pointedly ignored. As the light had steadily blinked, Ken had slowly piled more and more of his textbooks over on that side to block it. The Tale of Genji was one, along with advanced mathematics, and history. He’d tried to forget about it.

But Minomon wouldn’t let him.

He could hear the books being shoved, could hear the thuds of them settling against the desk. He focused on the book in front of him, or the notes on the screen. Anything but the little digimon struggling with a stack of books twice his height, and thrice his weight.

But Minomon wasn’t one to give up. There was a click, his D-Terminal’s cover springing open. There were a few beeps as Minomon navigated the menus—probably using the tip of his pinecone, Ken was still not looking—and then there was the scraping of metal against wood.

Ken finally snapped his head around, “What are you doing?!”

Minomon stopped, drew back for a second—Ken immediately feeling guilty for yelling at him like that—and then began pushing the D-Terminal closer to Ken. “You really should look.”

With an irritated sigh, Ken put down his pen. If Daisuke had filled his inbox with that same wheedling, he’d definitely have words with the other Chosen. At least the others respected his right to say _no._

Four new mails. Ken ignored the earlier ones. The latest one blinked at him, although they were all bolded—meaning unread. He opened it up, and froze.

_Hundreds of Dark Spires._

Minomon’s soft voice drifted towards him, “Are you really okay studying while our friends are in trouble…?”

“What could we do?” Ken whispered reading line after line of Daisuke describing the swarm. It was marked ten minutes ago. Even Anyamon was fighting. But Anyamon was stronger than Wormmon. Ken didn’t want Wormmon to get hurt. “We won’t be able to digivolve.”

Minomon’s eyes shone in the light thrown from the computer screen, filled with love and trust and worry. “Can’t we try?”

His computer screen blinked, the windows rearranging themselves as the digital gate initiated. Ken shook himself, realizing that he’d pulled his D-3 out of his desk drawer. The fight was probably over by now. The Chosen would easily be able to fend off a couple of champions.

But ten? Eleven? Twelve? Daisuke had said at least a dozen enemies.

The digital gate overlooked a snow covered valley. He could see the Dark Spires piercing the sky. They clustered in the valley, some jutting out from the walls, pointed up as if they would spear some unlucky victim that would fall on them. The mountain at the end of the valley was completely covered, a forest of stone trees, shining ominously in the sun.

_See, Kenny-boy? You’re a coward without me._

x-x-x

The sky overhead was a maelstrom of buzzing wings. Iori watched awe, the sun eclipsed by so many beating wings. Digmon couldn’t do much more than cover for them, shooting off his drills into the sky at any of the insect digimon who got near them. He couldn’t fly like Halsemon, Nefertimon, and Pegasusmon. He also wasn’t as nimble as Flamedramon or Anyamon, who were bouncing from one spire to another to gain the necessary height. The digimon hadn’t wanted to leave their partners unguarded either. Not after what happened to Miyako.

“Oh get back here you varmint! Let me swat you with a _Rock Crackin’!”_ Digmon’s drills sank into the ground, the snow and stone deforming as stone was shoved up and out, giving Digmon a couple platforms of varying heights to use his Gold Rush attack from. It also gave the chosen little knooks and crannies to hide in if the insect digimon dove too close for comfort, even if nobody wanted to take the shelter. They wanted to be able to see. It hadn’t been often, but every once in a while one of the chosen would spot something the digimon could exploit.

The only one who wasn’t watching the fight intently was Kouji. The blinded Chosen was sitting cross-legged in the shadow of one of Digmon’s platforms, staff lying across his knees. His friend, Takuya, was giving him the occasional narration, but more than once Kouji would snap at him to be quiet. Iori wondered at those two. Kouji’s comments just seemed to slide off Takuya with a shrug and a smile, and the sullen Chosen didn’t seem to expect them to work. An interesting dynamic—definitly one that spoke of long time aquaintence.

“ _Gold Rush!”_ Iori’s attention snapped back as a barrage of golden energy shot toward the sky, clipping the wing of a Snimon that ventured too close to Digmon’s vantage point. It keened in anger, but wobbled in the air, descending.

“Aw yeah! That’s more like it!” Digmon jumped on the Snimon once it came in range.

“Remember Digmon!” Iori found himself shouting—he wasn’t sure if Digmon could actually hear him—“Don’t hurt him too much! We don’t know if he’s a Dark Spire!”

Iori remembered the Insect Flute vividly. They’d fought these same digimon in that giant house—all innocent and forced against their will. He shuddered as he remembered staring into Digmon’s glowing red eyes—when none of his words could get through to his friend.

“Oh shoot Iori, don’t worry about it. I won’t. I’m just gonna rough him up a bit.”

As Digmon danced with his grounded Snimon, the others had their own battles to attend to. Pegasusmon and Nefertimon were making liberal use of their joint attack, Golden Noose, to tie any unwary bugs to the Dark Spires that filled the valley. There was barely any open sky—the insect digimon had to drop into to forest of Spires to get at the Chosen’s digimon, and the smaller numbered, but more experienced digimon were using the narrow spaces to their advantage. The bugs seemed hesitant to attack the Dark Spires, even if it would have freed their compatriots.

Anyamon leapt from a fallen Dark Spire—knocked over by a Fire Rocket early on—and onto a passing Kuwagamon. Iori almost lost sight of them as the Kuwagamon pulled up, away from the spires. There was a flash, and then a wailing cry—that distant red speck wobbling in the air, and then it dipped, heading straight down. Iori could just barely see Anyamon abandon ship, bouncing from one spire to the next as the large red digimon crashed, his giant body and pincers knocking over more Dark Spires in the impact than any of the digimon could have done on their own. The destruction sent the insects into a tizzy of rage. Of course, Iori thought, if they were ordered to protect the spires…

And Anyamon. Iori figured this battle had solved one of their questions. No wonder Kouji hadn’t given them a definite answer on the digivolution. Anyamon wasn’t just a large rookie. He may be small for a champion, but he was _powerful_. Fast. He was easily keeping up with Flamedramon, and taking down just as many of the enemy as the other ground-bound digimon. Of course Halsemon, Nefertimon, and Pegasusmon were way ahead of them, having the ability to _fly…_

But for each digimon they took out of the battle, another one joined it, steaming from the Spire covered mountain at the end of the Valley. That had to be it. Arukenimon’s lair.

“Digmon!” He found himself yelling, “Start knocking down the Spires! Then they will come to _you!”_

_“_ On it! Hey you! Ugly! Watch this!” ‘ _Rock Crackin’! “_ How’d you like _that?_ Uh-oh…”

And then Digmon was _quite_ busy as angry insects divebombed him. Flamedramon peeled off, rushing to help, and Iori could see Anyamon leaving off the chase to head back. What was the point in chasing them down, if there was a way to make them come to them?

And then he heard Daisuke, “Hey! It’s about time you showed up!”

Iori turned, just in time to see Daisuke grip a spellbound Ken on the shoulder, “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Ken was staring out over the battlefield, swarming insects, Dark Spires—both upright and fallen, “Wormmon wouldn’t let me stay.”

“Don’t say that Ken.” The small green digimon tugged on his Chosen’s leg, “I just had to remind you. You did the rest.”

“Still. We can’t do anything…”

“Pfft. Don’t worry about that.” Daisuke laughed, “Besides I’ve got an idea.”

He reached into his jacket, pulling out his D-3. He flipped it open, light steaming from the open lid to coalesce into an oblong black shape, the blue crest of friendship emblazoned on the side. The lightning bolt shaped spike jutted out from the end, gleaming in the sun. When no one made a move, Daisuke just grinned, “Go on. Take it.”

“It’s _your_ digimental, Daisuke.” Takeru was the one to voice the thought in all of their minds, “You are the only one who can use it, remember?”

“No I’m not! And that’s the brilliance of it!” Daisuke continued to hold out his D-3, the digimental shining, “Taichi met a digimon. A digimon that should have only been able to digivolve from a _Tailmon_ with the Digimental of _Love.”_

“And we never could manifest the digimentals before…” Iori caught on immediately. Thanks to Izzy’s program, they _could_ remove the digimentals from their D-Terminals. They could share. Even if it was only between DNA partners…the ability to use different digimentals, it would open up so many possibilities! Perhaps even enough to make up for their inability to directly digivolve—

“Besides—we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Ken’s trembling hand reached out. Blue light burst from the digimental, an answering glow forming around Wormmon, much to the little digimon’s surprise. It erupted into the sky, the blinding blue light forcing Iori to shield his eyes.

_‘Wormmon armor digivolve to…’_

“ _Togemogumon, the Shards of Friendship”_

Standing before them was a giant…hedgehog? Crystal spikes glittered in the sun, and blue armor protected the pointed face and paws. A white Crest of Friendship was emblazoned on the front two gauntlets, shining with a glitter that hinted at it being the same material as the spikes.

“Wormmon…”

The large head nuzzled Ken’s hand, before he looked up; blue eyes focusing on the battle going on between the three other land-bound digimon. “I’m going to help.”

And then it curled up, spikes prickling outward with the motion. The digimon shot forward with surprising speed for such a lumbering looking creature, hitting one of Digmon’s raised stones at an angle, and bouncing off—still spinning—straight into the mass of insect digimon. He uncurled in the air, spikes shining in the sun.

“ _Hail Machine Gun!”_

The hail of shards drove them back with din of angry cries. They were retreating, pulling back. Back toward where the spires still stood. Flamedramon rallied the other Digimon, “Quick! Push the attack! Push them back!”

Crystals flew, fire roared, rocks splintered, purple energy flared. The cracks and groans of the Dark Spires echoed in the valley, momentarily drowning out insect wings. Daisuke was cheering encouragements, nearly jumping up and down and clapping an uneasy Ken on the back. Iori watched the advancing party, the aerial force swinging back to give covering fire for the ground-bound digimon. The insects were retreating…yes…but it was too easy. They weren’t so much being driven back…just _falling_ back…

x-x-x  


A series of shapes slithered down the cliff wall behind them, green and black. They clung to the stone, the lightning shaped markings that served for eyes carefully watching the unknowing humans below. The lead clicked its beak in impatience. Wait, its mistress said. Wait till the children were alone. The group of traitors—those that sided with the humans—grew further and further away, chasing its fleeing brethren. Soon. Soon. It reached for the power the mistress had granted them—the code—a raging power that was bottled up inside waiting to burst. The mistress had been different since meeting the pink one, but it was a good change. It brought them power.

And they needed power.

For revenge.

Its main prey was hidden. The human. The human the pink one wanted. The human that had actually fought back. The human that had gotten one of its brethren deleted. Yes. It would attack the others—the ones who hunted its mistress—and that would draw out the other.

High up on the cliff, the unseen Dokunemon began to glow, and the other two began to spreading out across the cliff face, keeping their gift in check and looking for convenient crevices to hide in. Not yet. . Draw out the light, and then _trap_ it. They only needed one right now.  



	20. Sticks and Stones

“It’s a trap!”

Iori’s voice rang out, catching the attention of the other Chosen. They all turned away from the steadily shrinking sight of the party of digimon. They’d begun to split up, Anyamon doubling back, Pegasusmon and Nefertimon racing ahead to cut off the retreating insects. They’d just been talking about moving, to catch up with their digimon.

“It could be.” Daisuke shrugged. He thought the same, honestly, but he trusted Flamedramon’s judgment. If it got too hairy they’d retreat and regroup—especially since their trump cards were a little limited. “But I wouldn’t worry. The digimon know how to take care of themselves.”

“No. Not them.” Iori shook his head, “They are drawing the digimon away from _us._ ”

“Iiiiiiindeeeeed.” A hissing voice from above, “Clever chiiiiiiild.”

Daisuke’s blood chilled. That was just a _little_ too close for comfort. He followed the sound, and his voice wasn’t the only one to identify the bulbous spider clinging to the face of the cliff. The Skull and crossbones mark glared out from its back hairy body, empty eyes looking down on them—grinning.

“Dokugumon!”

“Guys! Split! Get to the stones! Ken—”

Daisuke didn’t even have to finish as the knot of children broke, Takeru and the Girls immediately rushing to the series of broken platforms Digmon had created. They’d be trapped there, but it was better than the cave—which was directly under those gaping jaws. Kouji and Takuya were already there—he could see the other goggle-wearing boy standing at the crack, shouting and waving at the others to hurry. The cracks between the stones were narrow enough that a digimon as large as Dokugumon would have a hard time getting at them.

To split the spider’s attention, Daisuke and Ken each aimed for a different side of the shelter—she could only go after one. They were the fastest, being athletes, and if just one could get out and warn their digimon—

“Stick around! _Poison Thread!”_

A glob of webbing smacked into the stone to his left—he was almost past—but then it pulled taut, forming a tall, sticky opaque wall directly in his path, from the edge of the shelter stretching back to the cliff. Daisuke had to skid to a stop—close. Too close. He could hear the material hissing, sickly purple wisps rising from the quivering strands. He gagged, staggering back from the fumes. Poison. He whirled around, searching—hopefully Ken had better luck—Yes! The seconds Dokugumon had needed to stop Daisuke had been enough for the other Chosen to slip through. Daisuke lost sight of him as the other direction was summarily cut off, forming a triangular prison with the raised stone at its pinnacle.

Ken got away. Good. Now they just needed to hold out.

“Daisuke!” Hikari was shouting, waving at him from where the others had taken shelter in the cracks in the stone. Daisuke searched for anywhere else, even as the Dokugumon heaved its great bulk, beginning a slow and purposeful descent from the cliff. There was the cave, but it didn’t have an outlet, and was far too shallow. The spider’s head would easily fit inside. He’d rather split the party—keep the spider’s attention on him rather than the others. So he stood his ground, even as the spider’s hairy eight legs settled on the stone ground. The already marked snow was crushed under the spider’s weight.

Nine poison green eyes stared at him, and Daisuke recoiled. Dokugumon was…like three times his height. He remembered this before. Remembered the clammy sticky feel of the webbing binding his arms and legs. He remembered being unable to move, only able to watch as that spider grew larger and larger, each step bringing those gaping jaws closer. They’d managed to get out of that pickle thanks to Iori’s quick thinking, but there wasn’t a conveniently placed airconditioning to blow away the web this time.

And the spider was talking. It couldn’t be a spire digimon—only BlackWarGreymon could speak, and he he’d been a mega. As scary as Dokugumon looked, she was only a champion.

Only a champion… Only a champion meant nothing when their digimon were halfway across the valley by now. Damnit. Why didn’t they learn? They’d even had Digmon hang back to prevent this! But one weakness—one scent of victory and they’d let the digimon push ahead—too far ahead.

He felt he understood Kouji’s actions in that battle a little bit better now. It was a chilling feeling, knowing that you were helpless and help was so far away.

No. No. He would believe in Ken. He’d catch up to them. Send them back.

Daisuke shook off the despair, facing the situation with his usual stubborn determination.

“Why are you doing this?” He shouted, trying to buy for time, and to keep her attention on him when he saw it wandering. Her eyes weren’t glowing. She wasn’t being controlled. Not like the last time, with that eerie flute echoing in his ears. That Dokugumon had just wandered off in a daze once Arukenimon’s flute had been neutralized. Something about this one told him it wouldn’t be so simple. “Why are you protecting the spires? Arukenimon is just using you!”

“My miiiiisstress commandssss it. I will catch you humansss. I will feassssst on your power.”

Feast. That adjective sent chills running through him. He shook his head violently, dislodging the memory of a dissolving Koromon. No. Digimon didn’t _do_ that.

“Your mistress wants to destroy the digital world! Why would you help her?”

“Liiiiiesss. We will rule it!” Web shot at him and Daisuke ducked, thankful for the quick reflexes he’d developed from soccer. The ground hissed where the blob of webbing landed, reaffirming Daisuke’s determination not to touch it. He knew she could make a non-poisonous web—otherwise he’d have been dead from being stuck on one for so long—but she didn’t seem to care enough now. He ducked and dodged, working around so that his back was to the cave. Keep her turned around—he’d noticed Takeru trying to scale the stone walls of the shelter. If they could get over…

“Oi! Stopping hogging all the fun, Daisuke!”

The shout drew both Daisuke’s and Dokugumon’s attention. The spider swiped out with one of its forelegs, and Daisuke heard it smack into the ground, cracking stone with the force. Damnit, why would someone else run out here like that!? Kouji couldn’t be that stupid, especially not with his vision. It didn’t sound like Takeru—

Red and brown tumbled from around the spider’s large bulk, dodging another web shot. Sunlight glinted off of plastic lenses—Takuya!

“What the heck do you think you are doing!?” Dokugumon made a halfhearted swipe at him with one of her legs, but she seemed distracted, and Daisuke didn’t need to do more than side step.

“Splitting her attention!” Takuya grinned, giving him a one handed salute, “The two of us can keep this up longer than just you can—see?”

Dokugumon snarled at them, leg skittering back and forth as she rotated back and forth, unsure which to focus on. At length she decided to ignore the newcomer, lunging for Daisuke. And then she stopped, whirling around as Takuya taunted her, even going so far as to gather up a snowball and toss it at her. Daisuke guffawed at the splattered splotch of white on her flank.

“Besides, if _I_ don’t I know _someone_ else is going to do something even stupider. It’s good to be proactive and all that.”

A quick glance at the rocks had Kouji standing rigid near the entrance, expression hard. Miyako seemed to be arguing with him, Hikari had a restraining hand on his arm. Of course. The last thing they needed was Kouji attempting another stunt like he’d pulled with the Kunemon. At least then he’d been able to _see._

And if _Daisuke_ recognized that as a possibility, of course Kouji’s friend would know that.

It’s not like he could say anything against it. _He_ was out here doing just that after all. Daisuke gathered up his own snowball from the ground, packing it down into a hard sphere. He had to admit it, Takuya was pretty cool. He had some great ideas.

So they continued to banter, the casual words keeping away the little part of his mind that just wanted to scream at him about how much of an idiot he was, and that Dokugumon was a giant digimon, and really they should just run and hide and wait for Flamedramon. It sounded like they were playing a friendly game of soccer, and Dokugumon was nothing more than the ball.

They kept it up, with one taunting the spider and the other moving to a different area before drawing the digimon’s attention again. Dokugumon was growing frenzied, her swings and webshots even more wild with every few minutes that passed. Then she screamed—a high, terrible scream that had Daisuke dropping his snowball and covering his ears.

And then there was a sound that had his blood freezing. An answering cry. He and Takuya were forced to scramble away as two more glowing bodies dropped from the cliff—reinforcments? Or had they intended to ambush the digimon when they returned? The ground shivered with the impact, and two sets of voices rang out— _Poison Thread!_

“Damn it! Move!” Something struck him and he rolled. Only a lot of practice falling for soccer let him end up back on his feet. Daisuke shook off the vertigo—the fumes from the web were almost overpowering. Takuya. Takuya had knocked him out of the way—where was he?

Daisuke turned back to where he’d been, only to see his compatriot. The other boy was nearly completely covered in web. He was on his knees, shaking, chest heaving—breath heavy. Poison. The purple wisps meant it was poison. Gautleted hands were tearing at the web, even as they shook from the effects. Wait. Gauntlets?

Daisuke’s vision started to seem a little weird. Maybe he’d inhaled too many fumes. He _was_ feeling woozy. There looked to be…two Takuyas. But there was only one. But there were two—one overlaying the other. The first Dokugumon snarled in rage, inhaling to spit again. The other two cackled

That weird double vision turned to him. One face was the laid back, cool kid Daisuke had gotten to hang out with—the other…the other had weird horn things and markings and _fangs_ when he snarled at him, “Get out of here!”

He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t just leave the other there—no matter how _weird_ this was getting.

The juvenile part of his mind that was not engaged in packing a snowball—his only weapon—was giggling in the corner. Jun always teased him when he’d come home late and tired, accusing him of dabbling in drugs. She might be right this time; the poison was messing with his head.

“Oi, ugly!” He let the snowball fly. It splattered against the lead Dokugumon, who was now looming over Takuya’s bound form. Its head jerked up, but it just snarled at the others. The others began to move, big, heavy bodies crawling over the ground. Daisuke turned and ran, ducking and dodging even more thrown web. Damnit, he needed to help Takuya—but how? How? _HOW?_

_“Poison Cobweb!”_

Thick purple gas spewed out of gaping jaws. Daisuke coughed, his lungs burning, and his sleeve covering his mouth. His eyes burned, his skin burned. He stumbled backward, away from the spiders. That was about all he could tell about where he was. Just away from the spiders and the billowing gas.

He must have ended up near the rocks, because several sets of hands grabbed onto his arms, his shoulders—and they dragged him back. Back into the relative shelter of the cracks. Takeru had his left shoulder; Kouji had his right. He was startled to notice that it was Hikari and Miyako who had his arms.

“I can’t just leave him!” His voice was raw—did the poison _literally_ burn his throat? Was it even now eating through his skin? He didn’t think so. It would hurt a lot more. But he still managed a glare at Kouji, who wasn’t anywhere near as worried as he _should_ be, “Did your heart become as black as your eyes?! He’s your _friend.”_

“He. Is. Fine.” Kouji’s jaw was set stubbornly, and his grip didn’t let up. “I’d say he has a better chance than _you_ would in the same situation.”

“Daisuke! Look!”

Dokugumon’s stream of poison was thinning, a brilliant red light piercing through the cloud. Then…and Daisuke couldn’t even believe his eyes. The first Dokugumon, who’d been gloating over Takuya, burst into flames. The spider screamed, throwing itself to the side, rolling to try and put out the flames—legs flailing. It rolled through the web barrier, knocking the right side out. The others spun around as fast as a giant spider could to meet the threat, leaving a giant, exposed target.

Fire. Flamedramon? Did Ken find them? Did Ken bring Flamedramon?

A growl echoed from somewhere above, and Daisuke felt his hopes rising. Anyamon. Ken must have found them. Anyamon jumped from the tall stones, landing on one of the spiders that had been converging on the fire, claws glowing a frightening purple energy. But the center of attention was the center of the firestorm. An armored digimon knelt on the stone, snow reduced to a quickly evaporating slush around him. His armor steamed--the poison had eaten through some of it, leaving pockmarks and furrows. It wasn’t Flamedramon. Shaggy blond hair fell from the horned helmet, and Daisuke heard Hikari gasp.

Two on three. It was a bit more even now. Anyamon leapt from the mauled spider, to the stone beside the red-armored digimon. He took a deep breath, gathering the same purple energy.

The other digimon’s gauntlets clashed together, flames wreathing them—“ _Burning Salamander!”_

_“Petite Meteor!”_

The two attacks hit the already injured spider in unison, exploding into a painfully bright inferno—red and purple eating away at the creature within.

And the spider screamed. And screamed. They could even hear it screaming after the fires had died. After the body had burst into tiny little bits of data. The screams echoed against the cliff wall. Echoed in their heads. Daisuke felt nearly all of the hands on him go slack as they quickly covered ears, except for Kouji’s. His grip only tightened.

The other spiders didn’t seem to miss a beat. One pounced on the pair of digimon, distracting them while the other hung back. She drank in the fleeing data, sucking the sparkling bits of power that were all that was left of the fallen Dokugumon. Again. Daisuke was thrown back to the battle outside the Koromon village. To the code. Kunemon _ate_ it. What did he say back then?

_“Eat the code.”_

_“Become stronger!”_

It made him feel sick—or was that the poison?

But he’d been the only one to see that—aside from Kouji, who wouldn’t know what was going on _now—_ none of the others would understand the significance. He struggled away from Kouji, his body was shaking but he made it out. He cupped his hands and shouted, “Be careful! She’s—“ The scent of charred fur hit his nose, and he gagged, the words choked off. He couldn’t continue. He didn’t need to.

It was too late anyway. The Dokugumon was glowing.

x-x-x

Pegasusmon strained his wings. It was hard enough to keep up with Nefertimon as it was, Halsemon was even lagging behind a little. As soon as Ken had caught up, delivering the news, she’d dashed off. He knew she _wouldn’t_ trust her partner’s life to just anyone.

Ken and the others would be coming—but they couldn’t fly. Anyamon should be there already—Ken had found him first.

Luckily she circled for a moment, giving Pegasusmon the time to catch his breath and make a quick assessment. One Dokugumon—check. But Ken hadn’t mentioned the red armored warrior. Friend or foe? He wasn’t sure. Not until he threw a blast of fire at the Dokugumon—friend then.

Aside from Anyamon, the last digimon in the area was in the process of digivolving. The familiar form had Pegasusmon miss a wingbeat, stumbling in the air. He gave a worrying snort as the light died down and the dark-grey bodied spider woman picked herself to her feet, grinning at her opponents.

This wasn’t good. It had taken all of them, plus Paildramon to take Arukenimon down, and Arachnemon was just as mean. “Pegasusmon!” Nefertimon got his attention, and he nodded. He knew what she wanted. He always did. “Halsemon—go help the others. Try and take out the Dokugumon. We’ll keep Arachnemon busy.”

Halsemon winged away. She hovered for a moment, matching wingbeats with Pegasusmon. They had to be in unison.

One.

They dove, curving along each other’s path. The golden beam of holy light stretched from her gauntlets to his. “ _Golden Noose!”_

They spiraled around the spider-woman, once, twice, three times before tying it off and splitting their flight paths. Arachnemon was an ultimate. It wouldn’t hold her long. They had to make it count.

_“Queen’s Paw!”_

_“Star Shower!”_

The crystals and stars rained down upon the still grinning spider. Nefertimon’s Queen’s Paw gemstones shattered into glittering red dust. His stars fizzled and went out. Arachnemon turned her horned head up to them, laughing and laughing. She wasn’t even straining against the noose. The Holy Power didn’t burn her.

She wasn’t even flinching. Pegasusmon gathered his energy. This wasn’t right. But they couldn’t do anything but try, “ _Equis beam!”_

Nefertimon swung around and tried again, trying her other attack. “ _Rosetta Stone!”_

She threw the heavy stone blocks right at the spider woman’s laughing face.

_“Spider Thread!”_

They splintered and shattered, Arachnemon breaking the Golden Noose with an almost careless motion. The razor-sharp webbing that had cut the stones drifted lazily to the ground. “This power…” She gloated, spreading her bandaged pale hands wide, “The mistress is right to side with the pink one. More. I need _more.”_

“She’s too strong.” Pegasusmon circled. Nefertimon was becoming frustrated, even if she remained as stonily calm as ever. “We need to wait for the others.”

“She won’t let us wait.” The winged cat said with finality. “She’s planning something.”

They didn’t have to wait long for it.

“ _Burning Salamander!”_

_“Petite Meteor!”_

_“Wing Blade!”_

The Dokugumon burst in a shower of data, dying with a final scream. That just prompted manic laughter. He wasn’t sure _what_ she was doing. Why was she laughing at her ally’s defeat?

“Mooooore!” She hissed. The data swirled, but instead of forming into an egg like usual, it streamed to the beckoning spider-woman.

“She’s _absorbing_ it.” Nefertimon sounded faint, sickened, “I won’t let her do that!”

She started to glow, bright, blinding. There was an answering glow from the stones, supposedly where the children were hiding. It wasn’t pink. It was blue-white.

In _mid-air_ Nefertimon de-digivolved, and Pegasusmon dove after Tailmon, she landed on his back, and he glared at her from over his shoulder, “What do you _think_ you are doing!?”

Her tail-ring was glowing, a bright warm gold. Her eyes were hard, determined, “I’m going to beat her.”

An answering pink light joined the blue white, and shot toward Tailmon. She jumped from his back before he could protest—jumping into the light.

“ _Tailmon digivolve too…”_

_x-x-x_

“ _Angewomon!”_

“Give it to me! Give me the _Light!”_ Eyes full of insatiable hunger, the spider-woman flung her web out to entrap the hovering angel.

Daisuke was dumbstruck. He’d never expected—never seen—he _knew_ Tailmon was supposed to evolve into an angel. Takeru told him long ago, and boy had _that_ spawned some jealousy—but to _see_ her. The rainbow light seared away the Spider Threads, streaming down onto the torn up snowfield, sending the remaining crystals sparkling in the sun.

“ _Arachnemon…”_ Angewomon’s voice seemed to _fit._ Powerful. Heavenly. Sad. “You, who sought to augment your own strength through the death of another…you shall be judged!”

The blinding light in the cave seemed to increase—that wasn’t _Hikari’s_ D-3 was it? There was pink, but most of it was blue-white. Maybe it was some quirk of ultimate evolution or whatever it was called? He knew the D-3s changed color when they DNA Digivolved. Regardless, he had to keep his back to everything just so he could keep his eyes open. Angewomon held out her gloved hand, the small wings elongated, forming a…bow? She drew on the light, drawing the arrow out of thin air. “ _Heavenly arrow!”_

Arachnemon’s scream was even worse than the last two as she was completely obliterated. Worse…because it sounded almost human. There were words in that high echoing shriek, words filled with pain and suffering and denial, and a will to live. It struck Daisuke in the gut. He’d seen digimon destroyed—he’d seen a Kunemon _eat_ Koromon, only to have Anyamon return the deed. He hadn’t wanted to remember. Hadn’t wanted to think about it.

Angewomon’s beauty became all the more terrible for it.

She drifted down, the moment her booted foot touched the ground, she dedigivolved. Shrinking, warping, the angel turning back into the little cat they’d grown to know and love. She staggered toward the cave, but collapsed—drained. The other digimon crowded around her somberly, even the armored warrior. He gathered her in his arms even as Pegasusmon set down, snorting and pawing at the ground. The warrior gave Pegasusmon a measuring look, and then a cocoon of data surrounded him for an instant. The apparition Daisuke had seen now stood before them, flesh and blood. Flame red hair, spiked and wild. A fanged smile, a white curving symbol under one eye. Bare chest, red armor, and those weird horn things. But beyond all those, it was Takuya’s face that was looking down at the cat. It was Takuya’s voice telling her that she did well.

“Tailmon!” Hikari ran to her digimon. She snatched the cat from…T-Ta—the digimon.

Digimon. Takuya was a digimon. Like Arukenimon. Mummymon. Digimon who looked human, but weren’t. Like Arukenimon. Arukenimon who’d looked like Arachnemon who’d just…just…

“You…killed them…” Miyako was the first to say anything. “You killed her!”

Not just defeated. But _deleted_. Miyako rounded on them. Anyamon was staring at the ground, ears pinned back—hunched at the accusation. The humanoid digimon took a step back, bringing gauntleted hands up to ward off Miyako’s poisonous glare. “Hey, give me us a break! They were trying to kill and _eat us_!”

"And what would you expect them to do?" _That_ voice came from behind them. Daisuke ripped himself free of the grip to face Kouji. He looked so cold. So impassive. So uncaring. "She wasn't under any control. She’d absorbed _both_ of her allies. She was an _ultimate._ Flamemon and Anyamon wouldn’t have been able to defeat her.”

Miyako shook her head wildly, pointing an accusing finger at the humanoid digimon, "Don’t get me started on him! He could have burned the webs when they were first put up. He could have freed us, so we could all get away! _Without_ killing the first Dokugumon! If we could have gotten away—the others wouldn’t have shown up! Tailmon wouldn’t have…wouldn’t have…” She whirled around, “And _you._ Why didn’t you tell us your _old friend_ was a digimon?!”

Kouji was surprisingly steady as he pushed through the other chosen, the metal shod end of his staff tapping rhythmically on the now clear stone ground. He placed himself at Anyamon’s side, near Hikari who wasn’t paying them _any_ attention. The cat hunched behind him, sinking lower at Miyako furious words—how the hell had he known where they were? Where to go?

Kouji’s unseeing eyes glared at them, taking a short breath, "Flamemon came with me today at Gennai’s request, even though I wanted to send him _home_ —Cerberumon attacked _you_ , if you remember.”

That comment hit a nerve, Miyako lightly touching her left arm. It had been in a sling for a few days, and even now she still favored it.

“It happened once. It was likely it would happen again.” Kouji shut Flamemon up when he tried to talk with a quick slicing motion. The digimon who hadn’t bothered to listen to Kouji before, finally listened now. “Flamemon came to make sure it _didn’t,_ and he and Anyamon did what they had to to protect _you._ If you think all digimon are good, you’ve been fortunate. You haven’t seen a world destroyed by two fanatical Royal Knights. You haven’t seen a village swallowed up merely because a rogue digimon wanted the _data_ it was made up from. I’ll let you live in your own fantasies—but do _not_ judge my friends because they chose to kill rather than _die.”_

"You know…"To Daisuke’s surprise, it was Takeru’s voice that spoke up next, "he's right…"

Daisuke shifted uncomfortably. He was angry. Stressed. Takuya had _saved_ his life. But he’d _lied._ He’d helped protect them. He helped to _kill_. He needed something to snap at, and opposition where he thought would only be agreement was as good as anything, "What are you talking about? The only evils we have encountered don't begin in the Digital World!“

Dark Spires. dark rings. Arukenimon’s insect flute. The casual cruelty of the Digimon Kaiser. Heck even this so called LordKnightmon wasn’t from their sector—for all they knew there had been something else to drive him to do this. He hung out in the Dark World—he was probably corrupted by that.

He couldn’t explain Arukenimon—but she used the Spires. She controlled digimon. Something _had_ to have corrupted her. She—she—was different.

"You don't get it do you Daisuke?” Hikari whispered, and Daisuke found himself the subject of her sad, distant gaze. She was all the way over there, but the words stabbed him in the gut. He took a step back, closer to Iori who he _knew_ was firmly on his side in this debate. The younger chosen was looking down at the stone, tears stubbornly clinging to his eyes. “My brother, Takeru, and the others, had been deleting Digimon way before Ken ever _knew_ about the Digital World. Devimon, Etemon, Vamdemon, the Dark Masters, and Apocalymon…All of those were digimon. _They_ were the ones menacing the Digital World, or even the Real World in Vamdemon and Apocalymon's case. I wasn't there for Devimon and Etemon but I saw Vamdemon. I experienced the Dark Masters. I stood beside my brother during the sealing of Apocalymon."

A tug on his sleeve, and he looked down to see Veemon looking up at him. “Daisuke…what happened?”

The dragon was hushed, the tension palpable in the air. If Veemon was here—he found Ken looking as white as a sheet and panting heavily. How long had they been here? Daisuke felt his stomach clench, how much had Ken heard?

Hikari cradled Tailmon—who was utterly worn out from the evolution, "Tailmon was forced into servitude by Vamdemon. Her best friend deleted by him. Takeru…" Hikari wasn’t giving up the point. She glanced at Takeru, silently asking for permission.

Takeru closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The memories were painful. Patamon fluttered toward his partner, patting the blonde on the shoulder. "It's okay T.K…" Daisuke barely heard the whispered voice, "I'm right here."

Takeru caught Patamon in his arms, holding the little digimon tightly. He opened his eyes, blinking away his tears, "Don't you tell me about evil Motamiya. There is _always_ darkness. And Darkness is not something brought on only by _people._ Devimon…Devimon killed Patamon! How can you tell me that's not evil?”

Daisuke couldn't say anything. He had heard of the adventures from Taichi and the others, but everything seemed different now. There was no evil digimon. Only people. Only people who made Digimon do evil things. Arukenimon, maybe. But she was a real piece of work.

x-x-x

Anyamon watched as Ken left. Just left. None of the other chosen seemed to notice. He ignored the aching in his limbs—a sign he’d pushed himself. Pushed himself too far. All the running and jumping… Ken had found him first, and immediately sent him back. So he’d rushed. He knew Flamemon would take care of them if he could—and if Flamemon wasn’t enough, Kouji could spirit evolve—but he’d run as fast as he could despite being already weary from the battle beforehand.

Anyamon caught Flamemon’s curious expression, and he jerked his head to where Ken was disappearing. Heading back toward the TV. Back toward the gate. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to catch him. Flamemon nodded “Go on.”

He’d take care of Kouji, who was still arguing. Anyamon nodded gratefully before he slipped away.

Anyamon knew where Ken was headed, so he cut him off. He was sitting in front of the TV when the Chosen arrived. Ken froze.

“Where are you going?”

He looked away guiltily, “Leaving.”

“Why?”

"They still blame me…"

"For what?" Anyamon knew that distant voice. He knew the vacant expression. He knew there was pain bubbling up inside, just wailing for a chance to spill over. He also knew how hard it was to actually talk to someone about it. Especially when they were close to the situation.

"I was the reason they had to become Chosen.”

And Anyamon _wasn’t_ close to the situation. He was an outsider.

“I met Kouji on the battlefield.” Anyamon responded bluntly. “I tried to kill him.”

“How…do you get _past_ that?” Ken demanded, angry and hurt and sick all at once, “I…I tried to kill their partners…tried to enslave the Digital World. Wormmon _died_ because of _me._ ”

Ken fell silent.

Anyamon thought about it. “You’ve…got to trust. Trust that you aren’t that person anymore.”

Ken pushed past him. Toward the TV. Anyamon didn’t stop him. Wormmon glanced up at Anyamon, but skittered after his partner, eyes downcast.

“Time helps. Fresh wounds are the most painful.” He admitted. His had only really healed after the fact. During the years of normal life, dealing with school and nightmares. He turned away, leaving Ken and Wormmon to port out alone.

x-x-x


	21. Welcome to my Parlor...

“Where is that creepy old lady?” Daisuke grumbled, his voice echoing through the hall. They were deep into the mountain—the tunnels were small. Cramped.—but Anyamon hadn’t lied. Nefertimon would be able to fit, but she’d have to duck the further in they went.

As cramped as it was, Hikari was keenly away that their numbers had shrunken. It shouldn’t feel that strange—Ken had only recently begun regularly traveling with them, and she’d only journeyed with Kouji once. But they were gone. Ken…no one had noticed him leave. Only a short, but telling email had assured them that he had indeed gotten home.

Kouji…

_“Arukenimon is your problem.” He said bluntly, “I’m not going to stick around while you insult my friends. Especially when they saved your lives.”_

Takuya—no, Flamemon had been limping as they left. She bit her lip, remembering the way Miyako had yelled back.

 _“Good! We don’t need any help from_ murderers.”

Hikari curled her hands into fists. She _knew_ how Miyako got. She would regret it—probably did regret it even now, but the damage had been done. It just wasn’t fair. Yes Anyamon and Flamemon had been the ones to delete the Dokugumon—with Halsemon’s help on the second one. Hawkmon was still disturbingly quiet, doing his best to _not_ bring up his involvement—but it had been _Angewomon_ who deleted Arachnemon.

 _“Yeah, but she wouldn’t have_ needed _to if it weren’t for the others.”_ Miyako had responded vehemently when Hikari had brought up that point, “ _Arachnemon—she—she just_ ate _them ‘Kari. She needed to be stopped. But the Dokugumon—we could have run! Especially if Anyamon and Flamemon—or whatever he evolved into—kept them busy! If they hadn’t killed the Dokugumon…”_

The other chosen had agreed, even if Daisuke seemed preoccupied. He’d watched the group leave with clenched fists and a hard expression. Hard, but almost a little indecisive. He didn’t know how to feel.

No one tried to argue that Flamemon hadn’t save his life.

##### -NaNo Begin-

In the end Daisuke did what he did best, he rallied the troops, and marched them straight through the forest of Dark Spires. The offensive push from the digimon left a swath of broken spires almost to the foot of the mountain itself. No wonder it had taken so long for Ken to get them to return.

There wasn’t a sign of the seemingly endless number of insect digimon that had assailed them only a short hour ago—had it _really_ only been an hour? Nothing so much as twitched among the black stone obelisks, no buzz of wings. It had seemed as if the sky had been _filled._ Where did they all go?

Regardless of how they got here, here they were—five kids and five digimon all crammed into a hallway like sardines in a can. The main five back together. Just like old times. Except old times would have them chasing the Digimon Kaiser, and wouldn’t have a quiet but dependable hole in their midst. Old times wouldn’t leave a bitter feeling in the air from driving away someone who’d only meant to help.

She only wondered how it would have gone if she _hadn’t_ caught Kouji’s hand, hadn’t stopped him from raising his digivice after Takuya had gone to help Daisuke. She had known what Kouji was trying to do, and it _wasn’t_ to evolve Anyamon. She hadn’t told anyone. She’d promised. She’d promised, and that promise made her ache inside as everyone grumbled about how they didn’t need him anyway.

She hadn’t told anyone about Lowemon. She hadn’t told anyone about Wolfmon. No one else would _know_ how similar Flamemon’s evolution had looked in design to the other two warriors—and she was certain if she took her D-3 to Izzy they would discover the red and gold armored warrior was the Warrior of Fire.

They didn’t know. They _couldn’t_ know. They _couldn’t_ know that they’d driven away three _powerful_ allies.

She looked down at Tailmon. Her digimon was still weakened from the evolution, but she’d stubbornly declared she could walk herself. Tailmon walked a little ahead of Hikari, just behind Takeru. Patamon was hovering at a slow pace at her side, chatting amicably. The other three Chosen were clustered further ahead, the noticeable separation between the two groups telling in it’s own way.

Four technically. Everyone thought this battle was in the bag. They had _Angewomon_ after all.

But…it hadn’t been Hikari alone that had let her digivolve. What use was she, when her own digimon needed someone else? What use was she, when no one wanted to listen to her? What use was she, when she couldn’t say anything?

x-x-x

_“Well—can’t you just take it out?”Kouji asked impatiently as Gennai studied the D-Scanner, flicking through the screens. Hikari watched, amazed, as the digivice_ projected _countless screens into the air, letting Gennai peruse the coding and content at his leisure. She wished Izzy were here—he would have a field day. He’d always been interested in the workings of the digivices—even going so far as to plugging his own into his computer and messing with the programming. “Put it in…one of those weird machines of yours. You said it needs to be connected to the network in order for it to work right.”_

_“It does. In order to run passively, the source must be able to connect to the entire digital world at once—as I understand it, the sanctums were built as an interface for that exact purpose. Light must have been a backup—it couldn’t have been active…not if it was to stay hidden there…Anyway, as it is, contained in your digivice, it is isolated.” Gennai hummed, “But it resonates with Tailmon when you three are within a certain radius. Tailmon’s tail ring—I_ still _cannot believe she received_ another _—seems to store some of that potential energy. I assume she’d be able to digivolve again, given the right conditions. No. I won’t remove it from your digivice.”_

_“It isn’t_ safe there. _If LordKnightmon manages to scan my data_ — _it’s stupid to leave this…thing where he could get it. It would be better if you could_ hide _it. Plug it in. Whatever.”_

_Hikari and Tailmon watched the argument go back and forth. Back and forth. Kouji wanted the Essence_ out _of his D-Scanner ASAP, and Gennai refused to do it._

_“We would lose two very effective weapons if I removed it!” Gennai silenced all protest at last, exasperated, “I’ve been studying the data Hikari’s D-3 scanned from Beowolfmon—he’s equivalent to a_ Mega _! And Angewomon’s strength—as a Holy Digimon—is boosted exponentially just from the mere_ presence _of the essence! It would be foolish to remove such an advantage—and if we could get Patamon to evolve to MagnaAngemon? It would triple our chances!”_

_Kouji stood up suddenly. He wavered momentarily, steadying himself with a hand on the back of his chair, “It’s always about power—isn’t it? LordKnightmon won’t let me keep it. He_ beat _me soundly when we first fought—even with Takuya and all the other warriors backing me up. I’ll be your dice if you insist on gambling, but take my warning to heart. He’s_ powerful _.”_

_Then he walked out. Anyamon rose slowly. “If this…essence powers up Kouji and Tailmon…whose to say the other seven won’t power up_ him?”

_And then he followed his partner._

_“Gennai…” Hikari asked quietly once the others were gone, drawing the old man’s attention, “We’ve_ always _been underpowered against our opponents, but we’ve always been able to win. Why are you so worried about levels and strength now?”_

_Gennai paused, and turned away from them, staring into the fire in the sitting room. His arms were clasped behind his back, and to her surprise, she noticed them_ trembling. _“Because.” He said at last, not turning around, “You’ve always had potential. The digimon partnered to the Chosen Children have one advantage against all odds. They can_ grow. _Most digimon never reach Ultimate, much less Mega even after numerous life cycles.”_

_Tailmon was usually still in the silence that followed. Her tail even stopped twitching. Gennai took a breath and shook his head, “After three months, you all had two Megas…TWO. And every one of your digimon could reach ultimate. Even the younger generation—DNA Evolution is a_ remarkable _thing…” He shook his head again at the wandering thoughts._

_“Right now, LordKnightmon has hit on the one thing that might actually work. He disabled the sanctums—rerouting the forces of evolution. For what purpose I shudder to think about. But the Essence of Light is the_ only _method_ we _have to unlock the potential that is the Chosen’s greatest weapon… Even if hiding it would keep it safe…if I did that… I would be taking away our only chance. You all would be able to digivolve to champion, but Ultimate requires much more power. Much more concentration. Without the crests, which are gone—or another source of power, say the Essence…” He trailed off. Hikari tightened her grip on Tailmon as the guardian sighed, turning around to look at them._

_“Right now…Light needs to shine. It can’t shine when locked away, no matter the good intentions for it.”_

_x-x-x_

“Alright Arukenimon! Your time is up!” Daisuke liked to think his entrance was rather dramatic, kicking in the wooden door and looking as heroic as possible as he did so. It didn’t matter that it had been cracked open already. It didn’t matter that he’d heard Arukenimon talking to someone—probably Mummymon. The bandaged idiot was never far from his “pumpkin.”

All he wanted to do was _finish_ this. This day. This quest. This arc in the history of the Digital World. They’d been chasing Arukenimon from almost the moment they’d defeated the Digimon Kaiser—they couldn’t deal with her on top of the newest fruitcake to join the “Let’s mess with the Digital World” party.

“Oh. It appears we have an uninvited guest.” She wasn’t even playing at being human this time. She looked exactly like Arachnemon—it was creepy—same bulbous striped body, same bandaged legs, same hunched woman-based torso with obscenely gangly arms…He honestly wouldn’t even _call_ her a woman at this point. The only difference was that _this_ one was red. _This_ one was the menace they’d been one step behind every time they’d ran into her. _This_ digimon was the one who had kept Ken’s nightmare going, even as the rest of them just wanted to put the Digimon Kaiser and his Dark Spires to rest. “I hope you do not mind if I entertain them. They killed some of my children when I threw them a welcoming party.”

“By all means, go ahead.” Definitly not Mummymon—Arukenimon treated the poor guy like dirt—not with this weird sort of respect. Daisuke couldn’t find who she was talking to. But she turned away from whatever it was. She leered down at the chosen, who’d all managed to clear the hallway. Daisuke saw Miyako flinch at the word kill. He really didn’t like the idea _either_ , but…now wasn’t the time. They had to finish this.

His hand tightened on his D-3, and Veemon nodded at him, leaping a step ahead, “I’m ready whenever you are Daisuke!”

Veemon. Good old Veemon. Daisuke couldn’t _help_ but smile at the thumbs up the dragon digimon sent him. Daisuke eyed the hall they’d stumbled into. It had a high ceiling—good. He’d been worried they would be limited. This room appeared to be a gathering hall of some sort, which was a great improvement over the passages they had taken to get here, or even the rooms they’d explored on the way. Not that Digmon wouldn’t be able to make more room if they needed to.

They had her this time. Daisuke could sense it. She was trapped under a mountain. Maybe they didn’t have Paildramon this time, but they were stronger. They were wiser. They had Angewomon.

Not that he was going to rely on that, but it was comforting to know they had another ace if they needed it.

“Oh, you children are too cute. You actually think you can _win.”_ The spider-woman laughed that same infuriating laugh Daisuke had heard as she’d had Digmon and Stingmon dancing to her tune. She crouched, arms spreading wide, “But your wings have been clipped—haven’t they? Only one of you is a threat, and I’ve been ordered to _take_ the light. You have no chance.”

“You aren’t going to lay one disgusting claw on Hikari!” Daisuke bristled, “C’mon Veemon. Let’s show her what we can do.”

“Right!”

Four voices rose with his, “ _Armor evolution…!”_

_“Flamedramon!”_

_“Shurimon!”_

_“Digmon!”_

_“Pegasusmon!”_

“Nice trick.” Arukenimon sneered, “But I’ve seen it all before. _Spider Thread!”_

The digimon scattered, the threads whipping wildly through the air.

“What’s the matter?” Arukenimon’s voice hung over the melee as it dissolved into a 4 v 1. Arukenimon seemed just as unconcerned as ever, her manic grin never faltering as she showed surprising agility for such an unwieldy body. Those attacks that did connect barely even fazed her. “Where’s Paildramon? Sylphimon? Shakkoumon? Come now, Chosen, _digivolve!”_

She spun in midair, whipping thousands of threads around her—creating a shield that easily deflected everything from a Fire Rocket to a Gold Rush. She landed _on_ the stone wall, claws digging deep into the stone to anchor herself near the ceiling. She leered down at them, her lank white hair flicking back and forth as her humanoid torso swayed, “Just digivolve, and all of our troubles are washed away! Hah! You _can’t_ this time.” She inhaled as the digimon rushed her, “ _Acid Mist!”_

Shurimon—being the fastest of the current digimon—took the full brunt of the attack. He grunted, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. The acid bubbled against his leaf cloak, hissing, steaming. He had to fall back, limping, as the others quickly dodged to avoid the hanging cloud of poison. Arukenimon threw out her near invisible wires, tossing her head and laughing as they shredded Pegasusmon’s wings—the confined space severely cut down the flying digimon’s maneuverability. Torn feathers fell from the sky.

“Gotcha!” Flamedramon caught the falling Patamon with a leap, raising a wall of fire to ward off the bloodthirsty threads. He cradled the rookie in one claw, “Pull back! She’s got a position advantage!”

Highground, and she’d just taken out their air support. Digmon and Flamedramon stood protectively around Shurimon, who had managed to throw off most of the acid. He trembled, but clenched his shuriken in defiance—they would never give up, Daisuke knew. He bit his lip and turned to Hikari, “They’ll keep going as long as they can, but…”

We need Angewomon.

Flamedramon passed the injured Patamon to Takeru, who’d dashed out there at the first sign of danger for his partner. He cradled the small winged digimon.

“If only I could digivolve…” Patamon muttered, wincing as every movement caused _something_ to flare in pain. “I’d show her…Heaven’s Knuckle to the face…”

Hikari looked between the digimon, Takeru, Daisuke, and Tailmon. She bit her lip. She looked down at the digivice in her hand, it was dark. “But…”

“How does it feel, children? How does it feel to have your toy taken away?” Arukenimon was going on the attack now, sending her Spider Threads throughout the entire room. They stuck to the walls, slowly cutting down the room available to the other digimon. Flamedramon hissed as he accidently brushed against a strand, sending it quivering. It left a red gash on his arm, “Don’t touch it! It’s still sharp.”

Arukenimon lurked in the corner of the room, in the center of the funnel web she was spinning. She was beginning to glow. “How does it feel to have your own weapon _turned against you?_ ”

Was she—“Damn it—she’s digivolving! First Dokugumon—I thought Gennai said _no one_ would be able to digivolve with the sanctums gone!” _We need Angewomon now._

“Should I tell you, children?” Arukenimon’s voice warped and she quickly spun a cocoon of webbing surrounding her, blocking the attacks that were suddenly homing in on her. Flamedramon, Digmon, and Shurimon were frantically trying to interrupt the evolution. That’s not right! Why were _they_ blocked from evolving, and _now_ they had two— _two_ enemies digivolve right in front of them? They’d _never_ had to deal with this before! The Digimon Kaiser forced Agumon to evolve but…Ken was Chosen. He had the same abilities they did.

“Stop playing around. I grow impatient.” The no-nonsense voice rang through the hall. Daisuke jumped—he’d forgotten about who-ever Arukenimon had been speaking with. He still couldn’t find the source, even as the words echoed eerily in the web filled hallway.

“Hikari!”

“Hikari!”

“’Kari!”

“I can’t!” The girl screamed, sinking to her knees. Her eyes screwed shut, her head in her hands, “I don’t _have_ the Light! I _can’t_.”

The voice just laughed, “Of course you don’t. You are weak.”

“I can’t…” Hikari whispered her D-3 clattering to the stone floor. It lay staring up at them all, its dim screen damning.

x-x-x

‘ _I can’t…’_

Hikari’s anguished words echoed in Tailmon’s head. Hikari shouldn’t be sad. Nothing should make Hikari sad.

Exhaustion lay heavy upon Tailmon’s shoulders, but she held them up, straight and proud. She took the steps to Hikari’s side. She lay her paw on her partner’s knee. She looked up into tear filled eyes.

“You can’t.” Tailmon agreed. She didn’t quite know where the words were coming from, “But _we_ can.”

She could feel the power burning inside of her. The same power she’d felt that day on the Lighthouse. Just as she’d felt looking down at Arachnemon—knowing that she couldn’t let the digimon get away with what she’d done. Her rings were burning. Both of them.

Gennai said the holy rings stored the energy. She had _two._

They were glowing brightly—one in her ear, the other on her tail. “Help me, Hikari. Only you can.”

She placed the D-3 into Hikari’s trembling hands.

x-x-x

_“Angewomon!”_

_The holy radiance burned away the spider web. It healed her friends. It gave them strength. Patamon perked up, his wounds eased—_

_“_ You are _mine_ now!”

A heavy weight drilled into her back, and Angewomon staggered, crying out. Long tendrils snaked out, constricting, curling around and trapping her arms, her _neck_. They burned where they touched, digging into exposed skin. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was heavy. It was as if her mind was swimming in muck, dragging her down.

But she wasn’t falling.

That was the scary part. She _wasn’t_ falling.


	22. That Which has Been Stolen

"Hello?"

"Ah, just one moment. Ken!”

His mother’s voice drifted in through the door. Ken wasn’t trying to listen to it, but she was coming closer. Her footsteps echoed down the hall. He didn’t move. He knew she would be puzzled by the textbooks left haphazardly on the desk, by the glowing computer screen, left abandoned. She would immediately remember the moment she discovered he ran away, but the lack of note would reassure her. She would look up, see the lump in the bed—and hopefully leave him _be._

If it was Daisuke on the line, he did _not_ want to hear it.

He heard his mother apologize to the caller, informing them he was sleeping. Her voice began to move—leaving—and then she stopped.

A hand hesitantly touched his back. He tried to ignore it through the covers. _I’m asleep._ He told his mother silently. _Leave me alone._

But she didn’t. “Ken dear…I’m sorry but…Mr. Ishida is on the line. He says it’s an emergency."

 _Yamato?_ What did Yamato want?

He was almost tempted to pretend he didn’t hear. But… _Emergency._

“Alright…” He sat up, accepting the phone from his mother, “This is Ken speaking."

" _Ken! At last I got a hold of one of you."_

"What is the problem?" He didn't like that tone. Frantic. Relief. Worry. It never heralded good news.

" _Takeru and the others haven’t gotten back yet. I talked to Taichi, he hasn't heard from Hikari either; he's throwing a fit. I haven’t tried Daisuke’s sister—even if she_ did _give me her phone number."_

"They should have been back hours ago," Ken glanced at his clock, at the blinking numbers proclaiming it to be past 8 o’clock. When had his D-Terminal stopped pinging? He couldn’t remember. “Let me check…I may have an email.”

Making his way down the ladder while holding the phone precariously on his shoulder was a little tricky. He’d left his D-Terminal on the desk when he’d decided to just…not think for a while. That while had burned the time away.

He gave his mother a thankful smile he didn’t really feel and she bustled out of the room to give him his privacy. She hadn’t left without a worried look. Ken didn’t usually have friends calling the house—any communication was usually done through email—and if Yamato had used the _Emergency_ card…

“The last email was time-stamped around 6.” Ken reported to the tense silence on the line, “They’d found what seemed to be Arukenimon’s lair and were checking it out…” He scrolled through the previous messages. He lingered on the faltering apology. He shook his head. If the others— _his friends—_ were in trouble, his feelings weren’t important. It was that logic that had sent him into the Digital World earlier. It was that logic that had kept him going as he ran through hundreds of Dark Spires, all towering accusingly above him—following the destruction to find their digimon within that dark forest.

Kimura left too. Takuya—Takuya wasn’t _human?_ Takuya had been that strange little digimon with Anyamon?Ken had spoken to him—in the _real_ world. He stopped that thought—he’d first seen Arukenimon in the real world.

He made a mental note to stop by Gennai’s. He didn’t think Kimura would know anything—the email saying he’d left wasn’t dated too long after Ken had departed—but the extra firepower might be needed—especially if Tak—the digimon could actually digivolve like Daisuke’d mentioned.

_“Do you think you can open the 'Gate for me? I want to go looking for them."_

_“_ Would you rather I meet you there?”

“ _Taichi’s please. I can’t get a hold of Izzy.”_

“Alright. I will call Miyako and Iori’s family—make some excuse. Study party or something. Can you handle Daisuke’s?”

The groan that came through the phone line easily told Ken what Yamato thought of that idea. Ken just shook his head, shoving his D-Terminal, wallet, cellphone, and other important items into a small bag, pulling a thick grey and white winter sweater from the closet. “She’d ask too many questions if I did it.” After a moment he added, “Dress warmly. It’s going to be cold.”

_“Fine. Tell them there’s a study party at Hikari’s. I’ll tip off Taichi—he can run interference for us. See you soon.”_

Jun would be too wrapped up in the fact that _Yamato_ was calling her to worry about the details, which would be better in the long run. Ken hung up the phone. He glanced up to see Minomon peeking out over the rails of his bed, “Come on down…we’re going out.” He held his backpack open. Minomon lowered himself into the half-empty bag with a thin string of silk that vanished once he’d settled comfortably. Ken grabbed a scarf as Minomon asked, “Did something happen?”

“Hopefully not.” Ken mumbled to himself. But if he was honest, that was the only explanation that made sense.Hikari was too responsible to not email Taichi if they were running late. They hardly ever stayed in the digital world this late anyway.

His mother stopped him as he was heading out, fully wrapped up for both the nippy evening air and eventually the cold snow-covered valley. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course.” He smiled at her, “Takeru apparently is having difficulty on a project and I offered help. If we aren’t done soon, I’ll stay at his place tonight.”

She may know about digimon—but she didn’t know about the danger. And he didn’t really want to let her in on that part of it all. His mother would worry. She didn’t deserve for him to make her worry.

His lie seemed to cheer her up, “Oh good. I know Kouji had to withdraw because of some emergency—I was worried something else had happened. Go on, Ken. I’m sure your friend will appreciate your help. Make sure to call me when you know if you will be home tonight or not.”

His cellphone burned in his hand as he left. Ken sighed as the door closed behind him, his breath hanging like a mist in the air. Time to tell more lies.

x-x-x

Yamato wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to this new chosen. He’d been one of the few local Chosen who hadn’t had the chance to meet him. It wasn’t his fault—he’d been busy with school and practice and concerts—in fact he’d just gotten home from a rehearsal only to find his Mom—his _Mom_ —interrogating his Dad. Not only was it unusual for his Dad to be home so early, but to find his _mother_ here? His parents still spoke occasionally, but they weren’t _friends._

And any chance that this was a friendly meeting was quickly discarded when she’d pounced on him, demanding to know if Takeru had been over or if he’d even _heard_ from his younger brother. She was worried. She’d asked his friends—but neither family knew where their child was. After calling Ken he’d given her a story about them all having a study party at Tai’s. She eyed him suspiciously.

She hadn’t been there for most of the Vamdemon incident, but she never did forget having to watch him and TK leave to defeat the Dark Masters.

His Dad caught him as he was leaving—“I’ll take care of your mother. Tell Gabumon ‘hello’ for me.”

For never being home, his Dad was surprisingly observant.

“Thanks Dad.”

And now here he was, twenty minutes later, standing in the Digital World, eyes locked with an intense examination he knew all too well. The creepy thing was how empty those eyes looked. Ken had warned them him that Kouji’d been blinded in the incident that had dragged Hikari into the Dark Ocean again, but the way he was being _studied…_

“Flamemon isn’t coming.” Kouji had met them at their destination, leaning heavily on some sort of stick. Ken had originally wanted to stop at Gennai’s first, but he’d received an email telling them to go straight to the place the others had been last seen. Yamato didn’t mind the change of plans—he wanted to find TK as soon as possible.

There they’d found a dark-haired boy in a bandana, and what looked like a large black cat waiting for them. Had he heard them arrive? Had the digimon clued him in somehow? Regardless of how the supposedly blind teenager had noticed them, he’d immediately started talking, “Gennai sent him home to heal.”

Yamato had no idea who Flamemon was supposed to be, but Ken did. “Is he…alright?”

“The poison got to him before he could digivolve, so it did more damage than it should have.”

The two talked a little more, but Yamato was distracted when a quick flash of light momentarily blinded him. Two shapes stumbled out of the flash and into the dim light the television threw off. One Yamato recognized immediately. “Woah there! Where’d you come from?” He steadied his friend, and even through all the worry he couldn’t help a fond smile as Gabumon quickly adjusted his fur coat, doing his best to keep it out of the snow.

“Gennai mentioned you were coming. I know I can’t digivolve, but I can’t just let you wander around here without me!”

“Don’t worry about it buddy. Digivolving or not, I’m glad to have you by my side.” He gave Gabumon’s shoulder a playful shove, “What I meant was about that light. What was it?”

“Well…”

“…Takuya…?” The hesitant name for the other came from Ken.

“Heya Ken.” The—digimon? Had to be with the crazy hair and markings and the fact that he wasn’t freezing without a shirt on, “Sorry about the other day. It just doesn’t come up in casual conversation, does it? ‘Oh hey, I’m also a digimon—how am I in the real world you ask? Well…’” He didn’t get to continue with his reenactment, because the new kid shot a glare in his general direction, before interrupting him.

“You were supposed to be going _home.”_ Kouji growled. But in that growl Yamato recognized both relief and _worry_. “That acid got you as a human—and as you like to keep reminding me—while in that form, you are essentially human.”

Human…? Takeru had mentioned that Arukenimon and Mummymon had human-shaped forms—could other digimon have the same capability? He suddenly felt old. Old and outdated. Armor Evolution, DNA Evolution…and now digimon that could look essentially human…this was not his Digital World.

“And leave you like this? No way.” Takuya—the digimon—responded fervently. He marched passed Ken and Yamato—the heat radiating from the digimon’s flaming tail casting glorious warmth in his passing—and stood defiantly before the blinded Chosen. It was a token gesture, given Kouji’s disability, but Yamato felt a distinct sense of dejavu. How often had he done something similar to Taichi? How often had Taichi done so to him? How often had their esteemed leader ignored Yamato’s wishes and stood up to him, reaching out and poking him in the chest with that same resolute expression? “Leave the others? Geez, Kouji. I feel partially to blame here! If it hadn’t been for me, we might have been with them!”

“She called you a _murderer.”_

Kouji’s voice was low.

That gave the digimon some pause, but he shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m fine as long as I stay out of my human form—most of the damage was done there.”

“This _isn’t_ your battle.”

“But you _are_ my friend.”

“And _my brother_ is still out there, if you two are quite finished.” Yamato knew full well where this argument was going, having played through it many times himself. He turned to the digimon, “I don’t know who you are, or half of what you guys are talking about, but if you are here to help, then I for one am fine with it.”

He just wanted to get moving. As surreal as it was to be bombarded with dejavu, time was ticking away. The digimon smiled at him, small fangs giving it almost an impish look, “Right now, I’m Flamemon. And don’t worry about the kids—Before I left, Gennai said he could still locate their digivices in the network.”

“Fine. _Fine._ Whatever you want.” Kouji answered, somewhat impatient, “Did one of you think to bring a flashlight?”

Ken tapped his bag. He looked away, somewhat embarrassed when Yamato gave him an incredulous look, “I knew it would be night so I packed one.”

“Good.” Kouji nodded satisfactorily. He seemed to be automatically taking charge. It wrankled at Yamato—just like letting Taichi take the lead all those years ago had ruffled his feathers to no end—but Yamato knew how to deal with it better now. He was surprised that Ken was willing to follow him though—with Kouji being the new kid, and blind at that. “Anyamon can lead the way, but the hike is tough, so watch your step.” He chuckled humorlessly, but no one commented on it.

Yamato chafed at the pace. Not only was the walk from the television to the base of the mountain a long one, but they had to go slow. In the dark, broken spires crisscrossed their path more than once, requiring them to make long detours until Anyamon found them a crossable space. Even if Yamato grumbled that he’d be able to scale the small, but sheer hill that was a Dark Spire on its side, he didn’t press the issue. Even _if_ he and Ken could, the constant tap of Kouji’s staff as it sunk through the snow to the stone ground beneath was a constant reminder that others couldn’t.

Kouji and Anyamon were the ones who knew where they were going anyway.

Yamato shivered as the breeze snuck through the fibers of his jacket. Ken hadn’t been kidding about the chill.

“You can use my fur if you need it, Matt.”

Matt. No one had called him that in so long. TK did every once in a while but…TK had grown up. What had started out as an easy way for his younger brother to remember his name was now just a fond memory. He shook his head, giving Gabumon a grateful, but firm smile, “No. You need it more than me, buddy.”

But…he didn’t protest when Gabumon gave him a familiar long-suffering look and moved to walk closer to him, the warm fur of Gabumon’s coat brushing up against his numb hand. He hadn’t thought to bring gloves. Flamemon didn’t seem to be having _any_ of the problems the others were faced with. He left a trail of melted snow in his wake, flaming tail flicking cheerily, a beacon for those who chose to take the easier, but wetter path of following in the path he cleared. Kouji had initially—stubbornly—walked apart from the other to show his displeasure, but eventually practicality and the cold had forced him back to Flamemon’s side. Anyamon ranged ahead of everyone—the snow and wind barely penetrating his thick fur as he searched for the path through the forest of black stones.

At last he stopped—Yamato had lost track of time in the cold and dark.—and Anyamon melted back into the line of Ken’s flashlight, “I’ve found their scent. They did go into the mountain, like we thought.”

The cat nodded his head to the right, and Ken swung the light in that direction, illuminating the yawning stone door into the mountainside. It was open wide, snow spilling into the shadowed interior. Something hung above the door, barely seen in the edge of the beam. Yamato tapped Ken on the shoulder and pointed up, not willing to speak.

The light traveled up, and Ken let out a strangled gasp. A giant stone spider was carved out of the face of the mountain, leering down at them; damning. It was made of smooth black stone that had an eerie sheen in the flashlight’s beam—it was a distinctly different shade and material than the rest of the snow covered grey stone, but…it blended in so flawlessly…

“Come on. Let’s get inside.” Sometimes being blind was a blessing, Yamato thought as an impatient Kouji herded the rest of them out from under the gaze of that giant spider. It hadn’t quite been a Dokugumon, but it was realistic enough to make Yamato’s skin crawl, and he normally didn’t care about spiders.

“That thing was _creepy_.” Flamemon muttered, glancing back toward the entrance. Ken was quiet as Anyamon searched for the scent—it was a pretty straightforward walk for a bit, but soon enough side passages and rooms began to diverge from the main hallway. The cat paced, testing the air and floor for each before moving on, picking one. Yamato couldn’t help the thought that Garurumon would have found the trail quicker—ignoring the fact that the wolf was too large to fit into the tunnel—a wolf’s senses would be far superior to a cat anyday.

They were a good ten minutes into the walk when Ken finally revealed what was bothering him, “That spider…was carved from a dark spire.”

“Then why didn’t it attack us?” Yamato knew that digimon created from the dark spires both looked and acted like normal digimon, if a normal digimon went berserk and just wanted to destroy everything. “If she made it to guard—What?” Ken was shaking his head

“ _Carved._ Not made. But why…” He muttered, “She can’t use broken spires…I’d assume carving would end up the same way…”

Yamato became aware that Ken wasn’t responding to him at all, but thinking aloud. The dark-haired genius was focused intently on the path ahead, but all his attention was drawn inward, in that same way Izzy used to get when he became so wrapped up in a problem he forgot the rest of the world existed. “Why did she use true digimon to fight us? If she had so many spires? Why didn’t she change them? _Why_ did she bring them here, if not for that…”

And then he stopped so suddenly Flamemon rammed straight into Ken’s back. The digimon staggered back, rubbing at his face where it’d been smashed against Ken’s tense back. The chosen of kindness didn’t even seem to notice.

“What’s wrong, Ken?” Kouji stopped at Yamato’s words, shooting an automatic glance over his shoulder before he shook his head violently. Anyamon drew up by his side, “What’s the problem?”

“Iori was right.” There was no doubt in his voice, just worried certainty. “It was a trap. But not what he thought. This _whole_ thing was a trap. The spires. She _knew_ we’d come for them. There are so many in that valley she could create an army of ultimate digimon—we _couldn’t_ just leave them be.”

“But _why_. _Why?_ What could she gain from this? Arukenimon _always_ has some other angle. Some other plan…”

“Arachnemon wanted the Light.” Surprisingly, it was Kouji’s voice that broke into Ken’s monologue. The Chosen of Kindness snapped out of his own thoughts, zeroing in on the newer Chosen. Kouji had those empty eyes averted, staring down into the tunnel, “When Angewomon evolved.”

“Angewomon? How?” How _dare_ they go after Hikari again! It was bad enough she had to deal with the issues with the Dark Ocean. That girl—Taichi’s sister—TK’s best friend—didn’t deserve to be singled out like that. Not again. “Without the crests, none of us can push our digimon beyond champion.”

“She didn’t.” Kouji pulled out his digivice, “Not alone.”

The screen began to glow, a brilliant blue-white light spilling into the hallway. A swirling ball of data appeared above it, flicking and translucent—a mere shadow of the sheer brilliance its true form must possess. In its light the darkness was seared from Kouji’s eyes, leaving them a clear blue—focused and sharp.

Then it dimmed, the blackness rushing back in as he put away his digivice. He turned his sightless eyes away, “We didn’t tell anyone what happened in the Sanctum, but it ended up in my D-Scanner. LordKnightmon wants that Light. Apparently this Arukenimon of yours wants it too.”

“So. This is all your fault?” TK. Hikari. All the others, put in danger because they thought Hikari had some weird power? When it was Kouji who had it all along?

Kouji snorted, “I wanted rid of it. If you must blame someone, blame Gennai. Now are you going to glare at me all day, or are we going to find your brother?”

x-x-x

Ken was _relieved_ when Anyamon finally picked up a fresh trail. The atmosphere was getting unnecessarily tense with Yamato glaring at Kouji, and Kouji stalwartly walking ahead with Anyamon. Flamemon had _tried_ to lighten the mood, but reminding Yamato of Kouji’s _friend_ only earned him his own icy cold stare. At least once Anyamon started racing off down the hallway, they were breathing too hard trying to keep up. Ken had needed to scoop up Wormmon—the insect digimon wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace—but soon enough they found some light in this cursed darkness. Ken quickly shut off the flashlight—no need to announce their arrival—and they didn’t much need it. It was a straight shot to the light, leaking around a half open door.

“Slow down.” Kouji hissed, his staff making quiet thumps against the stone, “Unless you _want_ to sound like a herd of stampeding elephants. It echoes in here.” Yamato mumbled something Ken couldn’t catch in response, but he could see the tension in the older Chosen’s silhouette as he held himself back, forcibly slowing his movement to a quick walk.

The door stood before them, Anyamon’s crouched shape was stark against the light shining through the opening. He blocked the entry—just waiting. The room inside was _filled_ with spiderwebs—the faint strands shining with almost a rainbow sheen in the light coming from deeper in the hall. Ken couldn’t see much, shoved back behind both Kouji and Yamato, but he heard Yamato’s breathe hitch with the worried “TK…!” The he turned, grabbing Kouji’s jacket and pulling him closer, “If you are the one she wants—you _better_ stay here. You’d be a sitting duck without your eyes.” Ken saw Kouji’s fists clench, and for one worried second he thought he’d throw a blow at the taller, older chosen. But the other just nodded stiffly, tearing Yamato’s grip off his jacket. “I will hang back, but Anyamon goes in with you.”

“No. Flamemon can come with us. If they know Anyamon is your digimon, they’ll know you are here.” He shot a glance at Flamemon, who was at the back of the line to dampen the light let off by his tail, “Kouji mentioned you digivolved earlier—can you do it again if we need it?”

The digimon bit his lip with a fang, but nodded, “I’m still weak, but I can.”

“Arukenimon is an ultimate. “ Ken whispered, “One champion and a couple rookies won’t help us much.”

“We don’t need to beat her. We need to buy the time to cut them free.”

Ken had his suspicions, but they weren’t confirmed until Anyamon reluctantly stood aside and let them pass, sneaking into the spiderweb filled room.

Ken’s fears were confirmed when he saw the row of cocoons bound against the far wall, here and there, an identifying piece of hair or clothing showing stark against the white webbing. Daisuke’s goggles, and the ruff of his jacket. Takeru’s hat. Miyako’s sleeve, Iori’s hair. Hikari’s pink gloved hand. The smaller cocoons must hold the digimon—they must have been forced back to their in-training forms judging by the size of three of them. One was missing. There were only four of the smaller digimon cocoons—and of those only one of the slightly larger ones that should hold either Tailmon or Patamon. One of the digimon was missing.

Ken felt his heart sinking. Even if they managed to free all of them, he doubted it would be easy to get them out of there if one of their partners were missing—prisoner elsewhere. If Arukenimon was after the light—Ken had an idea of which one it was.

But then—why was Hikari still here? If they had taken Tailmon somewhere else?

The air was tense—so still that Ken feared that every little sound they made as they snuck across the room would disturb the webs and bring their foe down up them. Spiders used the vibrations on the webs to warn them when they’d caught their prey, and where on the web it was. He couldn’t see Arukenimon anywhere, but the room was so hazy—the light filtering through so many spiderwebs.

“How are we to get them down?” Flamemon asked in a whisper—he had to hold his tail close to prevent it from setting the whole room alight. They stood before the row of cocoons, and Yamato began searching through his jacket pocket. He pulled out a pocket knife, “Good thing I just came from rehearsal.” He muttered, flicking the knife part open after a few tries. It was obvious with the way he handled it that he never used the actual blade on it. It was small, dull, and the first few tries brought up some other tool.

Ken reached out to stop him before he touched the webbing, “She’ll know exactly where we are the moment you touch that web. We need to figure out a way around that. Wormmon—“ The small green digimon snapped to attention, “You know something about webs—is there a way to stop these specific strands from alerting her?”

Wormmon eyed the webbing critically before shaking his head, “There’s way too many interconnected strands. Even if I could reinforce them to prevent movement, I would likely miss _something_. It’s too complex.” His antennae dropped, “Sorry, Ken. But the best way would be to trigger to alarm somewhere _else_ , but she’d likely check here first anyway.”

Ken tensed his jaw. There had to be a way. A way to make as much of a threat _elsewhere_ that she would _have_ to go there first. Something wide-spread that she couldn’t ignore…

His eyes landed on Flamemon’s tail. _Fire. That’s it!_

“If we set the web on fire, she’ll have to go put it out!” He whispered excitedly, “We’d only have a limited amount of time to cut them down and get out, but the disturbances a live flame would cause on the web as a whole—it might mask our activities here—”

“Now, now. There’s no need to be that extreme.” The voice had Ken’s next words lodging in his throat. It was familiar. So familiar. That hated woman. The woman who treated him as if he’d merely been a convenient pawn, an ignorant child that she’d played to do her bidding and create a plethora of Dark Spires. But it was different. He knew it was her. But there was something else. An odd double-tone. “But do go on—I am _dying_ to know what the little genius will come up with next to escape my trap.”

From above! Of course—she was a spider, of _course_ she’d be hiding in the webbing—out of sight. Waiting. Lurking.

But what he saw wasn’t _Arukenimon_.

 _“Angewomon!”_ Yamato choked out.

Ken now knew where they’d taken Tailmon.

She’d been here all along.

The angelic digimon lounged in a knot of webbing spun into the corner, wings folded comfortably against her back, arching magenta spider claws hung at her side, over her shoulders. Some…pulsing green _thing_ wrapped around her neck, shoulders and arms—even her waist—gripping the digimon tightly in its grasp.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s in here _somewhere_.” She clucked disapprovingly, “It has taken me most of the time waiting for you to put the pest in her place. So you have my gratitude for taking as long as you did. Once she stopped fighting, however, it was frightfully dull. All this _power…_ and no one left to test it on.”

She stood up, stretching her arms—the spider legs behind her echoing the motion, “Now, my little children. I’m sure you have _sooo_ many questions. I’ll be sure to answer them, if you will answer one of my own.”

The green things pulsed as Angewomon spread her wings wide, hiding the spider claws from view. She almost seemed…normal now…except for the bindings that didn’t seem to restrict her movements at all. “If you’d be a dear, little emperor, _where_ is the light? I thought for sure dear little Hikari would have it… I _know_ it is here. I can feel it.” The light in the room brightened, and Ken realized with a jolt that it was coming from Angewomon. He’d just assumed there’d been lights somewhere—the digital world was full of oddities like that, “Such power…and it’s _all_ for _me.”_

And then she stopped herself, “Well. For my master. But LordKnightmon will grant it to me, of course. This body is suited _perfectly_ for it.”

 _“Arukenimon._ What did you do to _Angewomon?”_ Ken was trying his best not to shake, whether in despair or rage, he wasn’t sure. Was this how it had felt for the Chosen to face off against _him?_ When he had control of MetalGreymon?

“Tch. Always inquisitive. I’m sure you can guess, but that isn’t my name anymore.” Angewomon knelt on the web-made platform, her wings tucking out of the way of the spider legs that spread out to anchor in the web surrounding her. There was _something_ on Angewomon’s back. A giant green eye opened; blood-shot it stared down at them.

“ _Parasimon.”_ Wormmon whispered in disgust. “It’s a parasite digimon—tiny and harmless, unless it finds a _host.”_

“Exactly, my wayward servant.” The same disturbing dual-toned voice responded in amusement, the eye closing and Angewomon stood up again, “ _Digivolution—_ a gift from my new Master. But it was a double-sided gift—for my evolution requires a host. Isn’t it grand that one just _happened_ to come along?”

“So if we can pullyou _off,_ Angewomon will be fine?!” Yamato snarled, “Gabumon—can you try?”

The lizard digimon drew himself up, but deflated when nothing happened. “Sorry.”

“I’ve got her.” Flamemon stepped up instead, “It’s _sickening_ , the way that bug is using her. You guys get the others out.”

The little digimon closed his eyes. A wind picked up, teasing at his hair and tail, a band of data snaking around him—surrounding him almost like a cocoon. “ _Slide Evolution—”_

“Ken! You’ve still got the digimental!” Wormmon tugged insistently at Ken’s pats, “I can help him.”

Eyes wide, Ken fished out his D-Terminal. He’d forgotten about that.

“ _Besides—we’re friends, aren’t we?”_

The Digimental stared at him from the selection screen.

“ _Armor Evolution!”_

x-x-x

_“Togemogumon!”_

_“Agunimon!”_

ParaAngewomon watched as the children mustered their remaining weapons. How cute. They thought they would succeed where their friends had failed. To be fair, these two were new. The armor she wasn’t too worried about—armors were the weakest in the grand scheme of things. Now—the other was interesting. She hadn’t quite seen _that_ method before. How was it possible? Her master had specifically told her that none of the chosen would be able to _naturally_ digivolve except those with the _Light._

And the power she could feel was not coming from the armored warrior that emerged from the fire. It was coming from somewhere else.

She shifted her bulk—this body wasn’t used to the added weight of her beautiful form. But it was strong, and growing stronger the more she could drink in that brilliant power. The ring on her ankle burned, as did the one on her finger. She shuffled through her host’s mind, searching for what the sensation meant—

No good. The consciousness that was Angewomon was so fragmented and feeble that she couldn’t find any definite answers. Perhaps she’d done her job too well. Oh well. The body followed her will regardless, heavenly wings snapping open and carrying her airborn, just as a volley of fireballs hit the nest she’d made for herself.

 _How rude._ Obviously that one was going to be more of a threat. The hulking hedgehog would be a sitting target, and likely only had limited range capabilities. This body knew what to do. She clapped her hands together, waiting until the leaping digimon was within her sights, before drawing them apart, tracing a line of energy in the air—“ _Heaven’s Charm!”_

_“Crystal Shield!”_

The ring of pink light raced outward, but it broke against a shell of crystals shards that materialized before the armored digimon. They persisted even after the attack faded, and the digimon began to spin, the jets on his gauntlets wreathing him in a tornado of flame. She didn’t know what level this one was, so she darted out of the way of the whirling tornado, lamenting that the fire was spreading to her webs. Her beautiful webs!

But—it would do more harm than good, she realized with a wicked smile. The fire would catch and run along her web. She could see the children down there—hiding behind the bulk of the land-bound Togemogumon—frantically trying to free their friends. The digimon were free—sprawled out in the relative safety of Togemogumon’s spikes—but it would be close—the fire was coming…

Well, well. Things just got _interesting._

The flaming tornado whizzed harmlessly past her, but she didn’t expect it to hit the wall and bounce, aiming directly toward her again. It was too fast—she barely had time to turn and cross her arms—reaching out to block the blow as the fire burst, bathing her in searing warmth, the digimon within aiming a shattering roundhouse kick at her—“ _Salamander Break!”_

She caught it.

“Champion. If even.” The evil grin felt almost unnatural on this face, but ParaAngewomon didn’t care, “And you had me _worried.”_

She gripped Agunimon’s leg and spun him around, throwing him into the wall. It cracked and crumbled, leaving the digimon groaning in the wreckage. She could _play_ with these two…

Perhaps it might even draw the Light _out._

_x-x-x_

“I’m going out there.” Anyamon expected Kouji to protest. It would be stupid. It would reveal their presence. But Agunimon was getting _beat_ on. The…the… _thing_ in angel form was _playing_ with him, “Takuya can’t hold up to much more.”

Kouji’s hand on his neck tightened, fingers lacing through fur, “And if she recognizes you? You know you’ll need to slide digivolve.”

Kouichi knew better than anyone that the best way to hide something from an intruder was to _not_ think about it.The moment he stepped out as Lowemon… _Tailmon_ knew. Even if whatever it was that was controlling her didn’t recognize him…Angewomon would.

“I can try something else.” An idea was forming in his head. They could still evolve, because they brought their own power with them. There _wasn’t_ a sanctum of Darkness here—and Kouji had the Essence of Light with him…this might work. “But I will need your help.”

Kouji was gripping his digivice—it had been all Anyamon could do to keep him from Spirit evolving the moment he’d heard that mockery of Angewomon’s voice. Kouji _liked_ Tailmon. He _sympathized_ with Hikari. And knowing what this would do to the girl…

Kouichi knew all too well.

“You want to try it _their_ way, don’t you?”

“Why not?” Normally the feral grin on his brother’s face would bother him, but Anyamon understood. Kouji was a warrior. He itched to fight. But he knew his limitations. He knew Anyamon was the best for this job. And this way he could help.

x-x-x

“Togemogumon!” Ken yelled up at his digimon—they were almost done cutting Hikari free—only Daisuke was left, “Is there _any way_ you can help?”

“Not if I’m going to carry everyone.” The digimon muttered, “I can’t even help other than— _Crystal Shield!_ “ The topmost layer of spikes rose up off Togemogumon’s back, shooting off in the direction of Agunimon—the familiar grinding sound started again as more began to slide out to take their place, “If I do more…”

Ken remembered his other attack—the hail of sharp crystals raining down on his opponents. Considering that the unconscious—probably dosed with some variation of spider venom—chosen and digimon were currently laid out amongst the lower spikes…if he used the attack, it would rip up their friends too.

The shield formed around Agunimon, intercepting a Heaven’s Charm. It took a few more blows—giving the digimon a few moments of respite—before it shattered under the pressure. “He can’t hold up for much longer…”

A growing light in the corner of Ken’s vision caught his attention. He focused on the hallway, and the black shape slinking out of it, a white aura outlining the cat, “Oh no—he can’t be—“

The colors in the aura were unstable. Usually the digimon took on their human partner's color, since it was their energy they were using to fuel the transformation. But mixed in with Kouji's pure white light was a deep, dark black. The black and white battled with each other before finally leveling out, _"Anyamon digivolve to…"_

At last the light had settled into a deep, dark, stormy gray, " _Shyamon!"_

A single thundercloud-colored paw stepped out of the radiance, followed closely by a cloud shrouded head.

Shyamon's fur was a mix of light and dark grays, twisting and mixing together in a way that imitated the movements of an active thundercloud. His mane was one. Twisting and writhing about the obviously feline head was an extremely dark mass of shadowy fur. It was infinitely darker than the fur on his body, as pitch black as a starless night. Dusk-colored purple armor seemed to absorb the light radiating from not-Angewomon, nestled snugly along the lion's back, matching leg-guards stretched from just below the knee to just above padded paws. Shyamon tossed his mane, golden eyes glancing lazily up at the now hovering Angel, who was looking skeptically down at him. She gave one last glance to the battered Agunimon in her hands and just threw him away, turning to the new threat, “And who do you think you _are?”_

Shyamon bared his fangs at not-Angewomon. “Leave Agunimon _alone.”_

Ken glanced to where the digimon had landed, seeing nothing but a battered Flamemon slowly picking his way out of the wreckage. He was tagged out.

Ken turned to Yamato and Gabumon, who were busy cutting Daisuke free—“Anyamon bought us some more time—“ He glanced up at Togemogumon, “Can you give me a shard? The faster we get done, the better chance we have of getting out of here in one piece.”

One of the smaller crystal shards fell from the hedgehog’s back, clattering on the stone floor. Ken picked it up, carefully gripping it around the duller edges. He attacked the webs holding Daisuke to the wall, joining Yamato’s pocket knife and Gabumon’s claws.

x-x-x

ParaAngewomon tilted her head, eyeing the ground-bound lion beneath her. Was it really worth it? Like the giant hedgehog he’d barely be able to reach her. This big cat was yet another distraction. Maybe she should just ignore him and go after the others. Yes. That was good—

It floated lazily through Angewomon’s scattered mind. ParaAngewomon dug at it deeply, _greedily._ Angewomon didn’t want her to do something. Darkness. Reacting badly to light. Nightmares.

 _Thank you very much, darling._ ParaAngewomon chuckled, echoing the motions she’d ripped from Angewomon’s mind. If a little flash had hurt this little kitty’s eyes, this would _hurt._

“ _Heaven’s Arrow!”_ She drew back, drawing an arrow of light in the air. The lion would be a sitting duck. The lion was preparing to spring, but it wouldn’t be soon enough. She released—the lion jumped—it wouldn’t be enough—

Wings of cloud and armor propelled the lion upward, just over the searing path of her arrow. Purple lightning flashed amongst the feathers, and ParaAngewomon reassessed the threat.

 _Anyamon is strong for a rookie…_ she caught the fragmented thought. Anyamon—no—what had it shouted before? Shyamon? This wasn’t the kitty from Angewomon’s memory. This wasn’t an armor digivolution.

 _Those who naturally digivolve_ _will have the light._ She remembered. If dear Hikari didn’t have it… _this one’s partner_ will.

She could feel some of that power radiating off the digimon that hovered before her, along with something else. Something that every fibre in Angewomon itched to destroy.

 _Of course my pet._ She crooned at the remnants of Angewomon, giddy at the irony of it all. Neither Tailmon nor her evolution had realized it, but ParaAngewomon did. Their friend was a beast of darkness, leeching off the power of the light. _Of course we’ll destroy it._

_x-x-x_

“Done! Ken dropped the shard out of nerveless fingers. He and Yamato caught Daisuke as he sank limply—no longer held up by the strength of the spider webs. His head lolled worryingly, but, they couldn’t worry about that now. They heaved him up into Togemogumon’s spikes, near where Flamemon was barely conscious. The digimon had staggered back to them before collapsing. Now—how to get out of here? Togemogumon could go really fast while rolling, but he couldn’t roll with the chosen limp in his spikes. They couldn’t carry them all out on their own…

“Climb on.” Togemogumon gestured for them to join the others. Trusting in his digimon to have a plan, Ken did as was asked, seeing Yamato and Gabumon do the same. As soon as they were settled he felt the crystals shift, the row above angling downward, blocking him inside quite snugly. Realizing what Togemogumon had in mind, Ken grabbed onto whatever he could—squeezing his eyes shut—hoping beyond hope he wouldn’t be sick.

x-x-x

“Shyamon! Let’s go!” Shyamon’s head snapped around, seeing his brother running out of the corridor. What was he doing—oh. Across the room Togemogumon was curled up in a ball, spinning rapidly to build up speed. Then he shot out, bounding through the corridor Kouji had just vacated, the tips of his spiked armor barely grazing the edges of the corridor—If Kouji had remained, he would have been crushed. How had Kouji known? Honestly, Shyamon had given up wondering, but occasionally the thought snuck in.

“Found you!” He heard not-Angewomon crow in delight, and Shyamon dodged another Heaven’s Charm. He dove—he had to beat her to Kouji. Kouji was waiting for him.

Almost there. Something was appearing behind his brother. A tear in space, glowing green edges flickering in the space. A blue furred arm reached out—

“Kouji! Duck!” He yelled. His brother immediately reacted, rolling and springing to his feet in a move Anyamon had watched him practice day in and day out. Satisfied that Kouji had avoided the sneak attack, he snarled at the newcomer. A tall slender digimon stepped gracefully out of the portal, the muscles in his chest and arms rippling with strength. Graceful wings hung loosely against his back, the golden feathers seeming to have a glow of their own. He was mostly a humanoid digimon. He stood on two legs and had baggy white pants that had an unknown script running up their sides. His torso was bare from the waist up revealing a layer of light blue fur. Darker patches of fur could be seen on his chest and arms, seeming to form some sort of design.

Shyamon ignored him. Get Kouji, get out. That was the plan. He dodged another Heavenly Arrow, diving.

The digimon held out his arms, forming a triangle with his fingers, " _Pyramid Power_." A white light formed in between his hands and shot into the air directly in Shyamon’s path. He flared his wings, coming to an abrupt halt in the air to avoid the missile. He hovered for a moment, confused, wondering where the follow up attack would come from—and that moment of hesitation was enough.

The shot split into three separate orbs and each shot at the ground, leaving trails of light where the energy had traveled. A surge of black energy ran up these white trails and spread out, filling the void between the trails with a semi-transparent grey barrier.

The digimon let his hands fall to his sides as the field stabilized, trapping Shyamon in the depths of the Pyramid.

Shyamon couldn’t do anything but watch as all of a sudden he was gone, leaving nothing but golden-brown feathers in his wake. He shot at the barrier, teeth, claws, throwing everything he could at the energy blocking him from his brother. He tried to shout, but Kouji couldn’t hear him. There was nothing but a rush of air to announce the digimon’s arrival. Shyamon could see it stir Kouji’s hair. He knew his brother felt it. He saw Kouji grip his digivice, could see the code swirling around it—the others were gone, he could evolve!

Kouji lurched forward, away from the reachin claws. His balance wavered, and he was falling. But the port on the D-Scanner touched the code. He got it!

But then Kouji cried out in pain, the data scattering like spooked fireflies, the evolution breaking. Clawed fingers had punched through the cocoon, and now were latched onto Kouji's arm, twisting it sharply, awkwardly behind the boy’s back. Blue and black plastic tumbled to the ground as his fingers spasmed nervously; Kouji going limp as a swift blow to the head knocked him out cold.

Shyamon could only watch and cry out in rage as darkness swallowed them both.


	23. A Rock in the Storm

Angewomon—no. Not Angewomon. Angewomon belonged to Parasimon now. It was the little bit of herself that remained Tailmon that huddled in the smallest corner of her mind she could find as her body moved on its own. No. Not on its own. Parasimon’s loathesome touch skittered about, but it wasn’t looking for her now, not now that the virus digimon was pleased by her victory and annoyed with the one who robbed her of her prize.

“There was no need for you to interfere.”

Tailmon felt the emotion rage through her as if it was her own, and she curled tighter. Smaller. She didn’t want to think about Kouji thrown carelessly over Anubimon’s shoulder. She didn’t want to think about seeing Flamemon limp away from the final toss, didn’t want to think of the satisfaction that had filled her, and the annoyance that here was yet another distraction, when what she _really_ wanted to do was destroy those kids.

Those annoying kids. Not her friends. Enemies.

She’d deliberately thrown Parasimon a bone, revealing a weakness for her to pick at. She was glad Shyamon had been able to dodge the arrow, but she’d needed to distract Parasimon from Ken and the others. They had to get Hi—no. Even _think_ that name and Parasimon would find her.

Tailmon was weak. Tailmon was broken. Angewomon would never break. _That_ was how she managed to hide this little bit of herself, keep it separate from the Angewomon that Parasimon controlled utterly. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was her and what wasn’t. In a way that was good. If she couldn’t tell, then Parasimon couldn’t find her.

Tailmon clung to the rocks, and let the waves beat against her.

ParaAngewomon glared at Anubimon, “I had them well beaten! I was the one to flush him out. The prize should be _mine._ ”

But the impassive digimon didn’t even miss a step, massive golden wings brushing against the walls of the stone corridors. ParaAngewomon was self-conscious of her own paltry six and then shook herself for being stupid. Anubimon was a _mega._ And technically, so was she. She could feel it, the potential Parasimon unlocked within her—it would take a mere touch—

“Don’t.” _Now_ the dog-man responded to her. The jackal-head turned, enough to look over his shoulder at her, “I do not want more light in _my_ domain.”

Of course. The darkness itched at her. Parasimon wouldn’t have minded it, but Angewomon picked up on this sort of thing. Just another thing to get used to with this body.

Anubimon snorted, “The body is yours now. Stop letting it dictate you. We are all data, are we not?”

Of course. Data could be changed. Rewritten. She could already feel it happening—she didn’t feel so uncomfortable. At first everything about this body had felt wrong—like she’d been shoved into a space much too small for her.

Now though…now, after having been tried through combat…She hardly felt the weight of her claws—a flash of panic had her checking to make sure they were still there—or her own body. No. They were still there. She flexed one just as if she would flex a wing, pleased by the scraping sound it made against the stone wall, leaving a groove and not scratching her exoskeleton one bit. Anubimon was correct. She could change this form. Make it more…suitable for her.

But…he was trying to dodge the question!

“I will make sure to tell LordKnightmon of who did most of the work. Who devised the trap? Who set the bait?” She folded her arms, “Although I don’t quite understand why we just left his partner there—shouldn’t we have brought him with us?”

Or deleted him. He’d been trapped. It would have been a simple matter to break through the barrier and skewer him on an arrow. Anubimon had even gone so far as to _reinforce_ the barrier before they’d left completely.

“You are remarkably ignorant at times.” Anubimon sounded amused, “Bringing a digimon with such a strong afinity to the Dark Area…I wouldn’t be surprised if he would have torn you apart. You claim to be such an expert on the Chosen Children—tell me, what does a chosen digimon do when his partner is in danger?”

“Then we should have deleted him! I could have absorbed his data.” The data would have made her even _stronger._ How could she have not thought of this idea? Data was power. More data would mean even _more_ power. It was such a wonderful workaround of the slow, creeping growth that was a digimon’s natural life. She had chafed at her role, relegated to an ultimate for as long as she remembered. She didn’t remember ever digivolving to Arukenimon. How often had she dreamed of the power of a mega? Mummymon, the idiot, was so short sighted. What was the point of a drawn out _boring_ life of scraping for a human? Even if that human always made her feel weak. Weak and powerless.

Well. She had power now. It had taken LordKnightmon to show her the light, so to speak.

“You believe _you_ could break my barrier?” Anubimon snorted, “Even _I_ would not risk breaking it for such a ridiculous notion. LordKnightmon wanted the child. We got him the child. Sphinxmon could not follow us here, not without going through the Lords of Hell first.”

“Sphinxmon?” What the hell was he talking about? “That was Anyamon or whatever his next level was.”

“Of course. My mistake.”

x-x-x

Kouji staggered as he was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor, shooting his hands out to try and catch himself. The rough stone cut into his palms, scraped his knees. Even Akemon’s shadow-sight didn’t help him here. He could still see Angewomon’s light, but it was choked almost to nothing, a tiny flicker shrouded by a giant black cloud.

Other than that, it was as if the world didn’t exist. He’d gotten used to the little cues Akemon’s ability gave him, over the last few days. He felt lost without it here.

“My, my, how the mighty have fallen.” _His_ voice. Kouji snapped his head up, searching the darkness in vain for the source. LordKnightmon. They’d brought him to LordKnightmon, “It’s such a…pleasure to see you again, Warrior of Light.”

“I wish I could say the same.” The voice was moving. Kouji struggled to get to his feet, but was summarily pushed back down by the same furred, clawed hand that had carried him here. This time the hand didn’t leave his shoulder, claws digging painfully into his shoulder, piercing the fabric and breaking the skin. The meaning was clear as Kouji felt the blood welling against his skin before it was absorbed into the fabric. He wasn’t to move.

“Why won’t you look at me? Do you not wish to see the one who outsmarted you? That’s not very sporting of you.”

A metal grip caught his jaw, yanking him up and forward. The other grip didn’t slacken, so Kouji had to bite back a reaction to the pain as he was held suspended between two forces. The claws dug deeper into his shoulder, LordKnightmon’s gauntlet crushed his jaw. He wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he wanted to.

Surprisingly, it was not-Angewomon who brought him some measure of relief, “He’s blind, LordKnightmon. A condition made worse by the Dark Ocean.” She laughed, “It’s amazing how easy it is to get information out of my host—it makes me wish I had kept the girl. If my host yields information at a little manhandling, torture would be a _gold_ mine.”

A laugh, and then half the forces holding him up were now gone. He crashed back to his knees, sucking in air greedily. His jaw throbbed. He was going to have a bruise. He just hoped it wasn’t broken.

“Such an ironic position, isn’t it? The Warrior of Light, ever shrouded in darkness. I suppose that explains _something_ of your terrible performance at the Lighthouse.”

“That _terrible performance,”_ Kouji found himself wheezing out between gasps and hissed breaths, “sent you running with your tail between your legs, remember?”

“Do not flatter yourself.” The whistle of air was the only warning Kouji received before the cold steel of the gauntlet backhanded him across the face. He rolled with it, but there was a worrying crack and everything exploded in further pain. Only the iron grip of the claws in his shoulder kept him from being tossed completely to the floor.

Forget hope; he could taste blood. Dislocated at least, fractured at worst. His body was growing heavy.

“Your individual performance was laughable at best. It was the addition of your companion that forced me to make a _strategic_ retreat. And as you can _see_ —“cue the mocking laughter, “She is no longer a threat. Indeed, she will be quite the asset once I add the Essence of Light to my collection.”

He was cold. The code, he realized sluggishly, LordKnightmon was calling out the code. He fought it, but his thoughts were growing fuzzy. He couldn’t let LordKnightmon scan his data—the spirits—the essence— _Akemon_.

 _Shhh. It’ll be fine._ He felt the digimon creep forward, the assurance and warmth of his presence soothing away the cold of the scan. _Just stay calm. He’ll be mad enough right…about—_

_“_ WHAT!?”

_…now._

Another blow to the face. A kick met his stomach. He tried to curl in upon himself to guard as the blows began to rain down, but the ever present indifferent grip in his shoulder refused to let him. Instead, Akemon pushed him away, away from the pain, away from the voices, and into blissful unconsciousness.

x-x-x

LordKnightmon continued venting his frustration long after the boy went limp in Anubimon’s grip. But he didn’t kill the boy. No. That would be useless. He needed the boy still. He just didn’t quite need him in perfect condition.

“Where is the device?” He at last turned to his two subordinates. Of course, if the child’s digivice wasn’t on him, the data wouldn’t show up in his code, would it? He’d searched the strands for anything out of the ordinary—anything that didn’t belong there. _Nothing._ He could just scan the whole thing to be sure, but he still _needed_ him.

ParaAngewomon shrugged, “I assumed it was on him. The Chosen never go anywhere without those blasted things.”

Anubimon didn’t respond, just starting down at the body dangling from his claws. Bruises were beginning to show on pale skin, and the boy’s jacket and shoulder were a mangled bloody red. A snapped “Well?!” got his attention though. The jackal head met his gaze, “You did not say anything about any device. Only to retrieve the child.”

LordKnightmon wanted to scream. But that wasn’t dignified. So he took a deep breath, “Throw the child in one of the cells, and then go back to where you found him. His digivice _must_ be there somewhere.”

He looked down at where the child’s blood was _leaking,_ creeping down his arm and dripping to the floor _._ Humans were _digusting._ “And make sure you clean up too.”

The other mega digimon ducked his head in acknowledgement and left the room in a sweep of golden wings. He was lucky to have found such a good servant in Anubimon. The other…also a recent acquisition, hadn’t quite proven herself yet, although removing Angewomon from the board was a step in the right direction, “Tell me you at least got the others.”

“Oh? These old things?” She untied the dirty pink bundle from her belt and dropped it on the floor. It appeared to be a feathery pink scarf of sorts—the very one he’d seen Angewomon wear when he’d been facing down her arrows. Something inside it clinked as LordKnightmon picked it up, and rearranging the folds allowed him to see the multi-colored eggs trapped inside. At least something went according to plan.

Except…

“There should be nine, by your count. I only see eight.”

“One of the children didn’t walk into my trap.” She shrugged, twirling a lock of blonde hair around a white glove, “You want him for your plan anyway, so I figure we’ll get it eventually.”

Ah. Irritating, but an acceptable state of affairs. He reached forward, tilting her chin up gently, “Are you enjoying my gift?”

“Of course.” The lock of hair was dropped, the gloved hand moving to rest on his, “A little work, and it will be _perfect.”_

Once a spider, always a spider. Of course she would never be satisfied with the angelic perfection she had. Still…the more she changed…the harder it would be for Angewomon to break free. And right now…Angewomon was his biggest threat.

He’d planned on just _killing_ her, but this was far more entertaining. And useful. He was never one to throw away a good tool.

“It is the least I could do for the information you gave me. I didn’t think this world had a darkness…At least not in the same sense of my own.”

And to balance the light…he needed the darkness. He had the Warrior of Light. He _would_ have the spirits, sooner or later. The Spirits of Darkness were out of his reach, especially after the failed theft that had forced him to flee his home sector, but…a seed of darkness, germinated in jealousy and hate and pain…

It might work, and his lord would rise again.

 _He_ would be the lord. And the Warriors wouldn’t be able to stop him this time.

x-x-x

He curled in the darkness, huddled in a desolate corner of his small cell. Everything hurt. Everything. He huddled in the warmth of his scarf, uncovered hair tickling at his forehead. His shoulder had stopped bleeding finally, but the remains of his jacket stuck uncomfortably to the wounds, attached by the drying blood. It would hurt to remove it. He knew that. So he didn’t. He hurt enough. Besides…even a shredded jacket was _some_ sort of barrier against the chill of his cold, dark world.

_Even now…I’m only called when needed._

The bitter thought drifted through his mind, but it didn’t linger, drifting out on the heels of another.

He was too tired of being angry.

He was tired of fighting.

What was the point? Things would never be right. They had gone too far. The fact that he was _here_ proved that.

He was so _tired…_

He felt stretched. Too thin. The missing D-Scanner—while he was glad the Essence wouldn’t fall into LordKnightmon’s hands so easily—it…pulled at him. Tugged at him. The lock—the lock in his data shifted uncomfortably. The connection was weak, but still present. What could they do without the digivice? _Could_ he still evolve? He was still here, because he _belonged_ here, but he was still tied to that device, even so far away…

 _“_ How _exactly are you are still here…?”_

The thought echoed in his mind, not the air. _He_ was pushing forward again. No. He was too tired. He clenched his arms around his knees—and they were _his_ knees this time, not borrowed. _His—_ defensively, shoving that presence back. _Don’t. Just rest. I can handle this._

A hand rested on his, and he tensed. There was no way someone was in here. None.

His head tilted up, slowly. An apparition was before him. He knew it was just an apparition, a reflection. He knew because he’d done this before, when he’d been the reflection cast onto the world of darkness. Kouji was the only thing he could see in the surrounding darkness—kneeling before him. His jacket was just as torn. His face just as bruised as his felt, and he trembled with that same soul sucking cold. Did they really look that bad? That weak? His right arm hung limply, torn and red and…and…

“ _I don’t have my D-Scanner.”_ The not-words hung between them, “ _I dropped it.”_

His fingers twitched, grasping on to the hand that his logical mind knew wasn’t really there.

_“But you are_ still _here.”_

_…yes…_

He almost…felt afraid of the contact. Every time he’d reached out before, he’d been cast back, away. Exiled into the furthest depths he could find. Buried under denial, bound by will. Since…Flamemon, Kouji hadn’t been as…bad. But by then the damage had been done.

“ _I’ve been…wrong, haven’t I?”_

He tucked his face into his scarf—one of the few outward differences between them—and looked away. That admission…was difficult. They were stubborn.

_We’ve gone too far to turn back._

It ached, but he knew the admission was true. The fact that he even _recognized_ it…They were separate now. They would never have the singularity of mind and will that their brother had. That the others would have.

“ _Maybe. But…that doesn’t mean we can’t work together.”_

_I’m tired of fighting._

_They were_ both _so tired of fighting._

_“Akemon. Why did you push me away?”_

He flinched at the name. He accepted the situation, but…it still didn’t feel right. Akemon was his beast-form. He was human right now.

_“Well, then what should I call you?”_

That shouldn’t even be a question. And the answer that leapt to his lips during the Trial of Light didn’t quite fit anymore.

Yet, neither did Akemon.

_I don’t know._

As a consciousness, he shouldn’t exist. He was a shard. A splinter. A…

_Shadow. Call me Shadow._

Something cracked, splintered, and solidified—it felt…different. Distinct. Shadow knew he could never go back.

“ _Someone has a flair for the dramatic.”_

The sarcastic amusement almost brought a smile to Shadow’s lips, but he hissed in pain as the expression reminded him of their injuries. Kouji might be a reflection right now, but everything was all too real for Shadow. He’d pushed Kouji out with the intention of shielding him—the moment he’d known LordKnightmon meant to take out his anger—and he was going to follow through with it. At least _one_ of them deserved some rest. If there had to be two of them—they might as well turn the situation into an advantage.

“ _I refuse to let you take this alone.”_

Kouji’s reflection settled down next to him on the stone floor, the only spot of color in a dark void. It was a token gesture—Shadow knew he was alone the cell. He was still in LordKnightmon’s care. And even if he could get out, they were _somewhere_ in this dark world, blind, and with no way to contact their brother…Far enough away from their D-Scanner than any hope of reaching it was near _pointless…_

But…at least they were finally working together—and that made the darkness just a little bit brighter.


	24. To Those Left Behind

Hikari couldn’t last the night. After the third nightmare, Yamato emailed Taichi. It was a sober Chosen of Courage who picked up his distraught sister, but he didn’t attempt to cheer her up. He knew what it was like to face his partner on the other side of the aisle. He just held his sister. Held her long into the night. He watched over her sleep, stroked her hair as she shivered and shook, and told her that they would get Tailmon back. They would. Everyone else pretended not to hear, even though every quiet sob would stab Takeru in the heart. Eventually Daisuke had to leave the house, quivering with the need to _hit_ something.

He came back later, gloves torn and knuckles bruised. Some chipped bark was the only other evidence, and the victim wasn’t talking.

Iori was still sleeping like the dead. The venom hit him harder than the others. He was so small, tucked into one of Gennai’s guest bedrooms. Upamon snuggled under the limp arms, jerking awake at even the slightest twitch or noise his partner made.

Miyako’s arm was acting up again. It ached, and she itched to scratch at the healing bite. She had Hawkmon wrap it up tightly, in double—no, TRIPLE—thick bandages to ward off her wandering nails. She was quiet all night, thinking of Dokugumon, Arachnemon, and then the Spider Queen herself.

Anyone. _Anyone_ who would turn a friend on another like that…who would turn a bid to help—to _heal_ into something to _destroy…_

She’d thought the same about the Digimon Kaiser once. But Ken…Ken had tried to make amends. Arukenimon had been manipulating him, as they had later discovered.

How could someone _do_ that? Forcing Tailmon—Angewomon—

She shuddered, huddled in the corner of the room, far from the others.

Flamemon and Kouji had come to rescue them. Even after what she’d said.

Flamemon had smiled at her, asked if she was okay. He’d waited for her—for all of them to wake up just to check on them.

She’d been wrong.

And she would never forgive herself.

Kouji had been right. Hikari had been right. There _were_ evil digimon. And she’d unfairly yelled at those who’d done their best to shield them from that truth.

Yamato snuck out of the house early. Thin strains of music wafted back through the walls. A slow, sad song. Takeru hugged Patamon, leaning against his brother in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Yamato didn’t mind. He just closed his eyes and kept playing.

Ken sat on the porch and waited. Wormmon slept in his arms, worn out from two successive evolutions. He watched the path, waiting, waiting. They were missing one. They were missing one and hardly anyone seemed to notice. Except Flamemon. The humanoid digimon sat beside him, warming the night. They both waited.

And waited.

The lights had long since died behind them. The others either succumbing to sleep, or seeking it as a refuge. None of them would be going to school tomorrow.

Flamemon’s tail was the only source of light in the shrouded courtyard. The moon was a thin crescent, hidden more by clouds than not. There was a wind picking up, bringing with it the promise of rain, especially with the dark clouds overhead.

“They’ll be back.” Flamemon muttered, shifting his position, “They’ve _got_ to come back.”

But with each passing hour, Ken was beginning to doubt it. As sleep crept up on him, he couldn’t help the sinking realization that they’d left them behind. He’d trusted Anyamon to take care of his partner—they’d needed to get the others _out_. Throughout the wild ride from the mountain to the television, he’d told himself that they’d meet at Gennai’s. That they would be right behind them. Shyamon had been able to hold off Angewomon surprisingly well considering she had a type, level, and experience advantage.

Ken must have drifted off at some point, because he woke to the sound of Flamemon jumping to his feet, and flying down the gravel path with an excited, “Kouichi!”

Footsteps crunched in the gravel, and Ken roused himself in time to see Shyamon’s dark wingspan fold, the feathers glossy in the light thrown by Flamemon’s tail. The lion’s silhouette took one step down the path, and then shuddered, legs buckling. The entire courtyard filled with light, forcing Ken to turn his eyes away for just a moment. Then it died. He had to blink to readjust his blurry vision to the dim setting.

“Woah! Careful!” Flamemon caught something. Shyamon was gone. Ken didn’t see Anyamon, or even Akemon. Had he digivolved further? Flamemon was holding a humanoid shape, the fire reflected off dark hair, and Ken found himself sighing in relief—good. They were both okay. Shyamon had probably dedigivolved to in-training, and any moment now, Kimura would pick him up, and then they could all go inside—

Kimura pushed out of Flamemon’s hold, staggering. Exhaustion was clear in his trembling silhouette. “Where’s Gennai?”

His voice…sounded different. The silhouette seemed…different. Flamemon didn’t seem bothered by it; he took it in stride, “Inside—hey…” He seemed peering around into the shadows, “Where’s—hey!”

Kimura didn’t quite shove the digimon out of the way, but it was close. He stalked out of the firelight, into the shadows of the path. Ken quickly moved out of the way—Kimura didn’t even give him a second glance.

The door was thrown open with a resounding “thud!” that must have woken _someone_ in the house. The lights flared to life, filtering out the open doorway.

It was Kimura…but it was Kimura as he looked in the Human World. It was Kimura as he’d appeared in the Sanctum of Courage. But it wasn’t just the clothes… His hair was…shorter. It almost…felt as if a blur was lifting from his mind, letting him see clearly for the first time.

x-x-x

“They _took_ my brother.”

Kouichi had to make a conscious effort not to growl. He’d been Anyamon for so long it felt weird to be human again. Gennai had ushered him into the kitchen, away from the other chosen. Blue and black plastic stared up at him from the table. Kouji’s D-Scanner. His own was biting into his hands. It had felt like forever as he’d been trapped in that pyramid. Throwing himself, over and over again against the side, trying desperately to escape. To go after them. They _took his brother._

Right. In. Front. Of. Him.

Kouichi did not get mad easily. But he was _seething._ He had no idea who the golden winged digimon was, but he intently felt the urge to hunt him down. It burned within him, his anger had been what gave him the strength to finally burst through the nearly opaque barrier only to tumble onto the stones below.

But there was nothing. Nothing but Kouji’s digivice lying forlornly on the floor.

“Kouichi…” Flamemon had followed him inside, “You might want to try calming down.”

Calm? _Calm?_ It had been the anger that had fueled each wingbeat. Anger was the only reason he was still standing now, even as exhaustion threatened to drag him down. He just wanted to shred something…just take his claws…

 _Claws._ He shook his head violently, taking a deep, gulping breath of air. Trying to clear his head. He didn’t have claws. Not right now. He _could._ All he would need was to shift form.

Maybe Kouji was right. He had spent too much time as Anyamon.

He _had_ expected to dedigivolve to Anyamon…how was he human? Kouji had been human—was the lock not working? Was Kouji—no. He refused to even think that.

“You said _they_. I assume it wasn’t just Parasimon, then?”

Ken was here. Kouichi vaguely remembered passing him on the way in, the others must be as well. They probably told Gennai what happened. “He didn’t introduce himself. Golden wings. Blue fur. Looked a bit like one of the Egyptian gods—“ the name was on the tip of his tongue—he had learned it in school—but it skittered away from him, lost in this haze of his thoughts, “the one with the jackal head.”

To Kouichi’s surprise Gennai cursed, his fist pounding against the table. Throughout the rest of this debacle the guardian program always managed to keep—if not a smile, then calm. This was the first time he’d seen Gennai react so…humanly.

“I’d suspected…Cerberumon never works without his approval…” He was muttering to himself. Kouichi tried to move closer to the table, but he swayed dangerously, a wave of dizziness washing over him as the hours worth of maintaining that evolution caught up to him. Luckily Flamemon was quick enough, the brown-furred arms catching him before he could meet the table face first. “Look, I’m glad it means _something_ to you, but Kouichi’s almost dead on his feet here. Either tell us already, or let me get him to bed.”

“No!” He would not go to bed. Not go to sleep. Not until he knew where he had to go. Not until he knew what he had to do. “No…Takuya--Flamemon. I’m fine.”

The anger was still there, but the hot rage was ebbing away, leaving him prey to the exhaustion of energy drain. It was a slow simmer, lidded by circumstances and his condition. But he pressed on. He wouldn’t give in, “ _Who_ is it Gennai? Who has my brother?”

_Who do I have to hunt down?_

“From the description…I would guess Anubis…” _Ken._ Three sets of eyes turned to the door, where the chosen of kindness was standing there, his face pale. He was leaning against the door frame, watching them. He had a thoughtful expression, as if just waiting for one last piece of the puzzle, and then everything would make sense, “The Guardian of the Scales, and Lord of the Dead. In Greek literature he was sometimes associated with Cerberus, and Sirius…”

“Oh! Ken! Could you go check on Yamato for me? I didn’t hear him come in…”

Covering up. Figures. Kouichi couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Don’t bother.” It was Flamemon who spoke up, silencing Gennai’s attempts to get the chosen out of the room, “He’s been here the whole time. And he saw what happened in the courtyard. If he hasn’t figured it out already, he will. He’s sharp.”

“Very well.” Gennai muttered. He obviously didn’t like that fact, “But Ken is correct. Anubimon matches the description you gave me. He isn’t quite a god, but he _is_ a powerful Mega Digimon. Old texts had him involved in the creation of the cycle of reconfiguration before he moved to the Dark Area. It would explain how LordKnightmon—who is not from our sector—attained knowledge of the Sanctums. I’d suspected his involvement—or at least his knowledge of LordKnightmon’s doings—since Miyako was attacked. But he rules as one of the Lords of Hell, even if the position wasn’t originally his. I didn’t expect him to take direct action…”

“Where. Is. He?”

“In the Dark Area, naturally. We did determine Cerberumon was letting LordKnightmon travel there—where are you going?”

One step after another. Gennai’s question broke his concentration, and he looked back. He was even with Ken at this point, right near the door. “I am going to find my brother.”

“The Dark Area is dangerous! And you two have told me before that your brother is the stronger of you—“

He caught the Guardian’s eyes, and shook his head.

“You forget what my element is, Gennai.”

_x-x-x_

Such a dramatic exit, and yet he’d only really managed a few feet. He was so _tired._ Both physically and emotionally. And he didn’t even know where to start looking.

Light crept into the edge of his vision. Firelight.

“What do you want, Flamemon?”

The wood creaked, Kouichi turned to find Flamemon lowering himself to the deck. The digimon was quiet for a moment, “I’m going home. I’m going to try and bring Takuya.”

The real Takuya. The human Takuya.

“What about the others?” Backup would be nice, but it took all of the warriors to create Susanoomon. Despite his brave words in the kitchen, Lord of Hell struck a chord with him. Lucemon had been one of those, hadn’t he? Was there a Lucemon in this world too? Did Anubimon have that same power?

Flamemon shook his head, “Cherubimon was still working on the data when I left. Darkness was mostly complete, but he had to rush Light from what I know, and that was the work of _three_ years. It makes me wonder if _that’s_ part of why Kouji is having the issues he is. We weren’t supposed to be needed so soon, damnit.”

That statement was punctuated by the thud of a gauntleted fist hitting wood. Silence stretched between them, moments feeling longer than an eternity.

“I don’t know how long I’ll take. I guess it would be stupid of me to ask you to wait until I get back?”

Kouichi nodded.

“Well. You take care of yourself, alright? Get some sleep before you go raring off. I expect you to be in one piece and ready to help me rescue that hopeless brother of yours.”

“Assuming I don’t rescue him before you get back.”

A laugh, “Fair enough. I’ll be rooting for you, even if I _really_ want to see Kouji’s face when I bust in and sweep him off his feet like a damsel in distress.”

The mental image of Kouji—in a princess outfit—scowling at the gallant knight Agunimon was just too much. Kouichi burst into quiet laughter.

And then he couldn’t stop. All the anger and pain and exhaustion just compounding and flowing free in almost hysterical laughter.

“I didn’t think it was _that_ funny.”

“Kouji—pink princess dress—” He groped for the right words, but they failed him. Just more laughter. But it seemed like that was enough because Flamemon screwed up his face in thought, and then reddened—if it were possible. “Ooooh. That’s good. He’d kill me if he ever found out about it though.”

“I won’t tell.” Kouichi promised, giving Flamemon a real smile. “But thanks. For trying to cheer me up.”

“Don’t worry about it. What are friends for?”

Friends. Yes. They were friends.

He had friends. He didn’t have to do this alone.

They sat there a little longer. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“I should get going before that gets here.” Flamemon said at last, “Flying in the rain is uncomfortable.”

Flying. “Vritramon?” They could access their beast spirits, it would make sense if Flamemon could as well.

“Nah. Too much energy.” The digimon next to him began to glow as he activated slide evolution. It took far less time, and soon Kouichi found himself staring down at a bizarre, but familiar sight.

The little digimon stretched orange feathered wings lazily, and the light shifted as they moved, making the shadows dance. They weren’t feathers. They were flames. Just like Flamemon’s tail. Just like Vritramon and Aldemon’s wings.

The orange light reflected off red scales that clad the little dragon. A white horned mask covered his face, green eyes peeking curiously out of it. He spun in a small circle, “What’d you think?”

“It’s very…” Cute, was the first word that came to mind, “fitting. Our…rookies don’t match our beast spirits half as well.”

“Well, rookie digimon usually don’t go waltzing around in full armor—and you guys have fully mechanized beast spirits.” A clawed forepaw scratched idly at the helmet, “And please don’t tell Kouji. He’ll tease me endlessly for being so cute.” Kouichi couldn’t help his chuckle, remembering a specific conversation that felt like so long ago… “And I’m Hiryumon. For reference. Although I’m gonna have to say goodbye for now.” The flaming wings spread and beat a couple of times to work the kinks out of it. “Ken’s been waiting to talk to you anyway. Tell him goodbye for me! I’ll see ya soon.”

With a somewhat awkward running leap, Hiryumon was airborne, gliding lazily over the darkened lake. With him went the light, plunging everything into the depths of night once more. Kouichi watched as the twinkle of red-orange slowly faded. He heard hesitant footsteps approaching. Hiryumon must have been right.

“I never noticed how different you look.”

No accusations. No questions. Just a statement of fact.

“You weren’t supposed to.” Kouichi pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled, but managed to keep his balance. His eyesight was slowly adjusting. He couldn’t see half as well as Anyamon, but he still had better night vision than he probably should, all things considered. “For what it’s worth, we didn’t want to lie.”

“Gennai told me why.” Ah. So that was why there weren’t any questions. Kouichi didn’t like the coolness in Ken’s voice. They weren’t…friends per se, but Kouichi had felt closer to him than to any of the others. “He also told me why I shouldn’t tell the others. And I agree with him. If they thought there was something they could do… but no. They are done with this adventure. Someone stole the Digimentals. Our digimon can no longer digivolve at _all.”_

Kouichi felt his heart sinking. His D-Scanner was a heavy weight in his pocket. They’d be putting the digimon in danger for nothing if the Chosen continued the pursuit.

“But…we can’t leave it like this. Not with what happened to Tailmon. And you can’t leave it with what happened to your brother.”

“I…know where a rip into the Dark World is.” That admission caught Kouichi off guard. Ken was looking his straight in the eye. No hesitation remaining. “I can take you there. _If_ you’ll help me.”

If. “What’s the catch?”

“Take…me with you. I still have the Digimental of Friendship, and…I found the Crest of Kindness there. In the Dark Ocean. I used it to seal a rip, a few months back. If it’s still _there…_ ”

Then they may not be completely out of hope.

“Alright. We will leave in the morning. Before the others wake up.”

That gave him a few hours to sleep. It would have to be enough.

_Just hold on. I’ll be there soon._


	25. The REAL Fourth Generation Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which still isn’t techically an interlude because PLOT damn it.

Another day, another _boring_ class. Takuya slouched in his desk, doodling on his notes. It was a terrible piece of work—he _thought_ it was supposed to be Neemon, but he wasn’t sure. It had the oversized ears for it.

Neemon…his eyes drifted to the empty desk. It had been so long since Kouji didn’t show up for class. They’d ended up in the same middle school, much to Takuya’s delight. It was hard to keep track of everyone nowadays…they were scattered all over the city. As days and months and years drifted by the group had grown apart. Or they would have, if Takuya didn’t make an effort to arrange a meet up once every month or so.

He hadn’t heard from Izumi in nearly three weeks when she’d called him early one morning after he’d been woken from a fading dream. His hand had drifted to the phone, he had to call someone…and there she was.

It didn’t matter that it was Sunday, that most of them had homework due the next day, they’d convened at a park near Tomoki’s neighborhood, the youngest being the one with the most parental restrictions.

Two hadn’t shown up. Kouji hadn’t answered the phone calls. An attempt to call Kouichi’s home phone had resulted in a clumsy attempt to stave off a worried mother. Takuya got a call from Kouji’s step-mother soon after.

Neither knew where the twins were. Takuya had traded glances with Junpei. He frowned and shook his head. They suspected—but…how could _that_ soothe worried parents?

So Takuya had just joked it off and said they’d probably gone out together, and would be back later that day.

Their adventures had only taken a couple hours last time, anyway. It was a decent enough estimate.

It’s been nearly three months, Takuya thought, chewing absently on his pencil. There were missing person reports out now. Takuya felt that he should be worried. He really should. Maybe they were kidnapped or something.

But the chances of both _vanishing_ , on the same night, from houses on complete separate districts of the city? And then there was the strange dream Takuya had, waking him up in the middle of the night, his cellphone glowing with a distinctly familiar pattern.

It _had_ to be the Digital World.

But why only them? If only two of them were to go, it should have been Takuya and Kouji. He wasn’t even being arrogant about it; they’d been the only ones to unlock double spirit evolution. Kouichi was as strong as the rest of them—stronger even, given the crap he’d gone through along the way—but if there was some sort of threat, then wouldn’t Takuya be the better choice?

He stopped, realizing he’d been sketching Agunimon’s symbol in the corner of the page. Maybe he was just jealous. He wanted another adventure. He knew Izumi and Junpei didn’t share his sentiments. Junpei never complained that he’d gone that afternoon, three years ago, but he was also settled now, happy with himself and his friends who liked him for more than his dumb jokes and magic tricks. Izumi…she’d…grown. She’d stopped trying to fit in, and just became herself. She was having fun in school, with new friends and more confidence. One of these days Takuya wondered if she wouldn’t show up for their monthly gathering, simply because one of her girlfriends took her shopping.

And yet she’d still made it three months ago, with no warning other than a hushed call in the wee hours of the morning.

Tomoki now…even if he had grown the most, he felt Tomoki wouldn’t mind going back to the digital world if they could. The shrimp wasn’t quite a shrimp anymore and was starting to catch up to Takuya. And with his new found height came new found confidence. Chakmon had given Tomoki the seed of it, and now it was beginning to bloom.

“Mr. Kanbara—if you find my class so _uninteresting_ , the door is right over there.”

The teacher’s disapproving words cut through his musings, and he reddened, ducking his head against the giggles from his classmates. He flipped the paper over, picked up his pencil, and tried to pay attention, scratching notes occasionally. But looking at the whiteboard had him looking at Kouji’s empty seat.

Sometime during class he thought he heard his phone buzz. He didn’t dare check it, not with the teacher swooping through the rows of desks as he talked.

Finally the bell for lunch rang, and the teacher’s parting words were swallowed up by student chattering and the scraping of chairs and shuffling of books and bags. Takuya shoved his notebook and textbook into his bag, and then stopped. His phone was blinking. He fished it out, leaving his lunch in its box at the bottom of the bag.

A text message.

He snatched his hat off the back of his chair, all but smashing it in place on his head as he scrambled out of his desk. Everyone had stopped eating and talking, looking at him. He ignored them all, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He had to leave.

“Mr. Kanbara! Where do you think you are going?”

He just waved vaguely in the direction of the teacher’s voice, shouting something about an emergency. He’d be written up for this, but he found he didn’t really care. All he could remember was the message. He’d been waiting for it, believing it would never come.

_Meet me at the station. Make your excuses._

He assumed the others got the message too, so he didn’t bother texting them. Instead he wracked his brain to figure out what to tell his parents.

 _“Sorry, I’m off to chase my destiny—I haven’t been kidnapped, I promise!”_ sounded just as dumb as it had last time…

_x-x-x_

Takuya waited impatiently as the elevator dinged each floor, the red light slowly traveling down the indicator. It felt so much faster last time. A part of him feared that it would reach the bottom floor and just stop. Just as it had when Takuya had tried the elevator once they’d repaired it.

He hadn’t necessarily wanted to go back then—he’d just been curious. That’s all. Really.

He hadn’t run into anyone yet. Maybe the others beat him to it? Tomoki lived pretty close to Shibuya station, which was how he’d gotten here the last time. Maybe they were going to wait until school let out—Kouji hadn’t specified a time. Takuya was just too impatient.

He held his breath as the elevator dinged for the basement floor. It shuddered, and Takuya thought it would stop.

And then the red light vanished, the elevator continuing its journey downward. The grey steel walls dissapeared, the world opening up around him as the elevator passed through the top of the enormous cavern. He shivered. The last time he’d been here…

But it seemed in miraculous shape given the trashing Lucemon had given it. It was just…so _empty._ The tracks still spread out from the central hub like a star, but there were no Trailmon waiting. There were no kids loitering around, debating whether or not to get on a train and leave their world behind. The doors slid open with a hiss, letting Takuya out onto the concrete platform. It was chill. He shuddered, grateful for the long sleeves of his winter uniform. As much as he hated the new school’s uniform policy, he had to admit it was warm.

There wasn’t anyone here. Not his friends. Not Kouji. Not _anyone._

“Hello?” His voice echoed in the cavern. He heard answering echoes greeting him back, but that just made him shiver again.

And then…he wasn’t alone.

“I shoulda known you would ditch school.” Takuya recognized those clothes. He glanced down to make sure he was still in the dark blue of his uniform—yep—and then looked back at the boy standing calmly at the end of one of the platforms. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets. That was Takuya’s favorite shirt and jacket—they were lamentably too small for him now—and the hat…

The boy turned, and the glare from the overhead lights caught in the lenses of square goggles. Takuya’s hand went to the ones resting on his own head—the exact same.

The hair was wrong. More red than brown. The eyes green. Skin darker than Takuya’s ever got, even in the middle of summer. “Who are you?”

The boy sighed heavily, “Not this again…Suffice to say I’m the Warrior of Fire. I called you here because I need your help.”

“Kouji called me here.” It had been Kouji’s number. That was how he’d known what station to go to. That was why he hadn’t questioned it.

“ _I_ did that.” Exasperated, the boy rested his palm against his face for a moment, shaking his head slowly, “Kouji needs help. Kouichi’s doing his best, and I…I can’t help anymore. Not without you.”

Kouji needed help. Wasn’t he just thinking earlier that _he_ should have been one to go? _He_ should have been the one to go on this adventure?

And now he could. Why was he hesitating?

Was it his doppelganger? Was it how worn down he looked? Was it the green of fading bruises on his face? The white of healing scars and the holes peppering the sleeves of his jacket? He’d been in a fight. A nasty one at that.

Was it the thought that someone else was the warrior of fire, and not him? That he was replacable?

And really, in the end, what did all that matter? His _best friend_ was in trouble. That was enough for him.

Kouji hadn’t once accused him of recklessness for nothing.

“How are we going to get there without a Trailmon?”

His double’s troubled face eased into a smile, and he strode forward, eating up the distance between them. “We don’t need one. Give me your phone.”

He held out a gloved hand. Takuya looked down at the cellphone sitting innocently in his own. Resolutely he held it out, placing it in his double’s upturned palm.

The little machine burst to life, and Takuya tried to jerk away in surprise. But his hand remained clasped in the other’s, the cellphone shining between their palms. He could almost watch the change, from nondescript ordinary cellphone to the black and red D-Scanner Takuya remembered vividly.

He caught eyes with his double; saw the fanged smile…and then everything went black.

x-x-x

He came to moments later. He was standing alone on the platform. His head throbbed as memories slotted themselves neatly into his mind—three years worth of blurred existence, and then a sharp week. Takuya put a hand to his aching temple, trying to process the sheer amount of information. His hat must have gotten skewed—his hair was irritating his eyes. But most of that wasn’t important. Most of the memories weren’t important. He had to find the right ones.

And then he found it, shining like a star. LordKnightmon. A fallen angel. Kouichi, angrier than Takuya’d ever _seen_. His eyes glimmering a feral gold in the light.

_He took my brother._

He didn’t need to wonder what to do. He’d known. His other had known.

But it wasn’t an other now. He closed his eyes, reaching for the spirits. They felt…changed. But it was an old friend, a missing piece of himself slotted back into place. The other’s pain and weariness and worry settled around him like a well-worn jacket. He’d been pushed to his limit—done his best. Now it was Takuya’s turn.

_Slide Evolution._

Flaming wings spread in the still air as Hiryumon crouched on the edge of the platform.

If felt strange to be going on this journey alone. But at the same time, he wasn’t alone at all.

Taking to flight, Hiryumon soared down the tunnel, further and further from the world he knew, and into one he knew better than ever.

x-x-x

_I’ve gone after Kouji. Don’t worry about me._

Tomoki stared accusingly at the message on the screen, but it wasn’t going away. He sat alone on the swings, far from the playing of the other kids. Recess was almost over. He knew that. He also knew his phone would be taken away if the teachers caught him with it once it ended. But he couldn’t bring himself to put it away.

 _I’ve gone after Kouji_.

It was dated only minutes ago. Tomoki had immediately called back, only for it to ring. And ring. And keep ringing.

_Don’t worry about me._

There was the bell.

He slid off the swing, turning to shuffle back inside without drawing any attention to himself.

But Ai would notice it. Mako too. They pestered him with questions—he wasn’t _normally_ so sour faced. Had he gotten hurt? Was something wrong?

He put on a brave face and laughed off their concern. He was fine.

He was fine…even as a cold chill settled in his gut.

_Takuya-niisan…why didn’t you take me with you?_


	26. Thirty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Ken stared out over the water. It was a bright, cheery clear blue. The sea breeze should have been pleasant. It just made him shiver. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. That he would willingly return to that evil hole in the world. Especially with the wound picked raw thanks to the Trial of Courage.

He’d been such a fool. Such a fool to think _he_ could control the powers of darkness. The powers he’d summoned from that dark rift…

But it was the only thing he could think of. He had sealed the rift in his…the old base. The gate cards had been lost in the battle between Halsemon and Cerberumon. The only other times they’d stumbled into the dark world had been…by accident.

Except for this one.

This one portal.

But…how were they going to reach it?

“I’m sorry Ken…” Wormmon responded to his muttered question, “Togemogumon is crystal. I’m of no help.”

If only they could…fly…

“Kimu—uh, Kouichi.” He tried to get the other’s attention. The quiet boy turned, he’d been on the very edge of the cliff, staring intently at a spot on the horizon. So intently, it made Ken wonder if he could _see_ something. “Kimura is fine. It _is_ my name.”

He knew that. But he’d come to associate Kimura with the colder, more prickly twin as well. It was…easier to remind himself this way. Remind himself of the lie.

With Gennai’s filter gone…he looked even _more_ like Osamu. Without those little details being smoothed away…

“We need to go out over the ocean.” Focus on the task at hand. Focus. “Daisuke mentioned an island that moves…but the chances of us finding that exact spot is slim to none.”

“You…want me to evolve. Don’t you?”

His digivice was in his hands. It always seemed to be. He was always fiddling with it, constantly checking to make sure it was still there. Ken could see it. Black and Grey. Why hadn’t they listened to Daisuke? Kouji’s was Black and Blue. Kouichi’s was Black and Grey. _Someone_ should have noticed.

 _Gennai’s program was intended to make sure you didn’t._ The sarcastic thought quipped back. And he didn’t even _want_ to think that a program could affect the real world. Affect his _mind_. Dull his _mind._

His mind was the only thing he had going for him, and even _that_ seemed determined to sabotage him at times.

“I…don’t know if I can…” Kouichi seemed uncomfortable, “I needed Kouji’s help. Your…style of evolution is…different. It takes more energy.”

“Style?”

Kouichi closed his eyes, summoning some sort of…code. It was the same code that had surrounded Flamemon when he’d evolved. Blue white, with little bits and bars. Seeing it now, swirling around the other chosen—was he really a chosen if he didn’t have a digimon partner?—‘s hand, it looked…almost like a barcode. D-Scanner…Barcode.

Automatically, Kouichi’s hand drifted toward the D-Scanner. That odd little protrusion pointed toward the swirling line of code. Then he winced, and let it disperse, “I can slide evolve when I’m Anyamon, but…they won’t let me evolve from human when one of you are around.” He shook out his hand, obviously in pain. “Spirit Evolution…is different. Our power comes from our spirits. I do not fully understand how I became Shyamon, but I know I did not do it alone. Kouji…gave me some of his energy.”

“That is what happens when I evolve.” Wormmon looked back and forth between the two chosen, his eyes bright, “I can feel that Ken believes in me. And with Ken behind me, I can do anything.”

“That is the power of having a partner.” Kouichi turned away, “Without Kouji I cannot become Shyamon, and my normal evolutions wouldn’t be any use here.”

But…Anyamon wasn’t a partner. Not in the way Wormmon was Ken’s. He wasn’t _bound_ to anyone. If all he needed was a source of power…

 _Agumon. Agumon screaming. The dark ring tapped into his Dark Digivice, routing the power into the other digimon. He_ knew _he wasn’t his partner. Deep down even the Digimon Kaiser knew that, but he was determined to have a strong partner. If his own was weak and sniveling, then he would just_ take _someone elses--! After all, this world and everything in it belonged to_ him _. He was just taking it_ back.

He was shaking. No. He was being shaken.

“Ken. Come back to me please.” Wormmon. He was tugging on his pants, pressing up against his leg. Wormmon. Wormmon wasn’t worthless. Wormmon was his _best friend_.

He was shaking his head now. There was an arm around his shoulder, supporting him through the gentle shaking. Was that actually him shivering? He sank to his knees, the same supporting arm following him down. Kouichi. Kouichi was there, kneeling next to him. Wormmon was there, a claw on his knee.

_Just a memory. Just a memory._

“I’m…fine…” Even with those words, he didn’t move. His hand shook as he groped in his pocket, pulling out his D-3. His hated D-3. “Just—bad memories. But…”

If he could make _Agumon_ digivolve… Just another source of power.

 _You_ need _me Kenny-boy._ That much hated memory taunted him. And damn it, this time it was right.

His D-3 was biting into his white knuckled grip. Would it even work? He’d been able to digivolve digimon even near a Dark Spire with the dark powers of his D-3. He hadn’t used them since. He didn’t _want_ to use them now. But…would it work even with the Sanctums empty? Kouichi didn’t need the Sanctums to digivolve…

…was there _even_ a Sanctum of Kindness?

He couldn’t afford not to know. If he could evolve Anyamon…

Ken looked up. “Digivolve.”

Kouichi’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

x-x-x

It felt…strange.

There was Darkness here. Shyamon skimmed the water uncertainly, wingbeats distorting the water more than it should. He slowly circled, the waves moving with him in an unnatural pattern.

“…It must not be time…”

Shyamon’s ear twitched and he tilted his head to look over his shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“I had…to wait…” Ken was staring down into the water. Wormmon held securely in his arms, “I…calculated it, I think. But I don’t remember the equation. What…made it open? I was hoping…”

Shyamon watched the water, watched it moving. It followed him, a small dip in the water. The sense of darkness was growing with each sweeping pass. What had made it open? Shyamon couldn’t say, but he had an idea of what would make it open _this_ time.

The sense of living darkness made his skin crawl, even as he pulled away from the water, his wings driving him higher and higher into the clear blue sky.

“What are you doing? We need to go _down_.”

Shyamon ignored Ken, flying higher and higher, keeping his same circular motion. That strange dip in the water continued to grow, deeper and deeper. The darkness was growing. Building. It was a pressure behind his eyes, drilling into his brain. This felt wrong. But he knew it was right.

“Hold on!” He growled to Ken, reaching the pinnacle of his arc. Then he tucked in his wings.

And dove.

The water parted in the wake of his passing. He knifed straight down, heading deeper and deeper to the darkness—to the _evil_ he’d summoned into this world. There were… _shapes_ in the water around him, little glimpses out of the corner of his eye. They fluttered through the air, brushing against his wings, against his back. He felt Ken shudder, felt the Chosen hunker down, burying his face and arms in Shyamon’s mane, blocking the apparitions from sight, if not touch.

Shyamon didn’t have that luxury. He dove wide-eyed and prepared into the waiting jaws of doom. Into the clawed embrace.

Darkness whirled around him. Choked him. It felt…wrong. Not Lowemon’s purity, or KaiserLowemon’s strength. This wasn’t Darkness.It was _evil._ Corrupted.

_Oh…bold of you to come here._

He had to keep going. Keep flying.

The apparition appeared ever before him, the tunnel of water leading down, and down and down. Torn wings, horns, a deep, blood red gaze. Ken’s shaking worsened the further they went. Repeating one word over and over and over.

_Devimon. Devimon._

The demon grinned up at him.

“Let us pass.” Shyamon growled. The Devil threw back his head and _laughed_.

_“I warned him! I warned him he could not control the darkness! But here he comes again—like a moth to the flame.”_

_“And you…you belong here._ Warrior of Darkness.”Devimon spat the title, reaching out with one long, clawed hand, “ _But you are too pure. Come home. Come home and be_ corrupted!”

Those insubstantial claws curled around him, and Shyamon roared in pain, writhing in the air. It burned. It was eating away at him. Tearing at the tatters of his soul. It was trying to…tear Kouichi out. Rip him away, rip him free.

No. He clung to himself. Clung to Shyamon.

He would not lose himself to evil again.

Together, they plummeted into the depths.

x-x-x

_Where are you going?_

Ken walked. And walked. Everything looked the same, from one end of the horizon to another. Grey. Grey. And more grey.

_Where are you from?_

The words meant nothing to him—thoughts and sounds that drifted through the dead world he found himself in. There was nothing left. There was nothing here. He was alone. He just kept walking.

_What are you looking for?_

That…was a good question. What _was_ he looking for? He had to be looking for something, otherwise…why walk? Why not just stand? Or sit down? He walked because he was searching for something. Searching for something he’d lost.

_Who are you looking for?_

_Who?_ There was no one else. There had never been anyone else. He had his brother— _dead. Why did I wish him gone, why, why_ —and Wormmon— _sacrificed to stop me, how could he. No.—_ Even Daisuke— _Limp. unmoving, Lips even a little blue from lack of oxygen as they cut him down. He should have been dead. If it weren’t for the venom, he would have suffocated.—_ Kouichi— _diving straight into the waiting arms of death, risking it all at a chance to find his brother. Why couldn’t I be like that—_

The polished face of a mirror gleamed at him.

“You _need_ me, Kenny-boy.”

_Why are you running?_

x-x-x

_Oh Ken…_

It was all Wormmon could do to watch his partner, thrashing about on the makeshift bed for hours. Oh how he wished they had never come to this place. He understood why. But he hated what it was doing to his poor, sweet, kind, _broken_ partner.

 _We’d only just begun to pick up the pieces._ Wormmon lamented, using a foreclaw to gently brush the hair from his partner’s sweating face, _Why Ken? Why do you insist on breaking everything again?_

_Is it fear?_

_Guilt?_

_A perceived sense of duty?_

Wormmon couldn’t remember much of the Dark Area, not from…before. Before Ken lost the sweet, kind child Wormmon had known and loved. But he remembered when he and Ken had stumbled into the Dark Ocean with Hikari and Miyako. He knew how much Ken feared this place. He knew how much it affected him. He had known it wouldn’t be easy. Especially once Wormmon had figured out exactly what Ken was planning.

He hadn’t been surprised when memories assaulted Ken, driving his partner to his knees. Even on the shore. The meeting with Devimon had been the real start. It had been the turning point, when Ken had started to doubt the wisdom of his path—but pride had pushed him onward. Sometimes Wormmon missed the pride of the Digimon Kaiser. The confidence. Maybe Ken had been misguided…but he’d been so _sure_ of himself.

Maybe that was why Wormmon hadn’t protested when Ken told him where they were going. Because, even if his partner was _terrified_ , he was dead set on going. Because it was the right thing to do. The only thing they could do.

Perhaps, even among the shattered pieces, Ken was trying to build himself again.

Suddenly Ken jerked up, sitting, sending Wormmon tumbling from his place on the bed. The insect digimon caught on to the blankets with his claws, heaving himself back on top with little effort. At first he was relieved—Ken was awake!—but…then he realized that no…no he wasn’t.

Ken was sitting up, trembling, the threadbare covers pooling around him. His eyes were wide and staring, but Wormmon could see no recognition in them. No focus. But he did see one thing he didn’t like.

“Get it out…” The whisper was nearly inaudible. It stung Wormmon as if it were a physical blow. A nightmare. How many times had Minomon been a silent observer? How many times had he been woken up in the dead of night by that same, strangled terrified voice? How many times had he cuddled closer to Ken, giving his partner some small measure of comfort and forgiveness that he so desperately craved?

“Stop laughing at me.” Ken’s voice was rising in volume, and his hands moved with jerking movements to his neck. “Get it _out_. Get it out. _Get it out!”_

Wormmon was forced to act as Ken began to claw at his neck—no, the _back_ of it. There was a dark splotch, stark against the growing red furrows Ken’s nails were making against his own skin. _“Sticky Net!”_ Wormmon caught one of Ken’s arms, shortening the webbing until his nightmare trapped partner couldn’t reach vulnerable skin anymore. But the other…the other was still free. He was tearing at his neck, and his nails—kept neat, but scuffed from typing, came away red.

“Ryuudamon!” Wormmon shouted, sending his plea for assistance to the digimon that had taken them in. Then he netted Ken’s other arm, hating every moment of it as his partner desperately struggled against the bonds, thrashing madly, “Ken, please—” Wormmon pleaded with his partner, “It’s just a nightmare. Please—please stop hurting yourself. There’s nothing here. We’re safe. _Please.”_

But nothing could get through. Wormmon was forced to watch and listen to Ken’s strangled cries.

“I’d hoped he would be faring better than the other.” Wormmon spun around, finally spotting Ryuudamon pushing through the cloth covering the door. The armored dragon moved to Ken’s bedside, clambering up next to Wormmon. “What caused it?”

“I don’t know.” Wormmon said helplessly, it pained him every time Ken struggled against the webs, the webs Wormmon had put on him. Wormmon was causing him distress, and each whimper _hurt_. “But he—he—was _clawing_ at his neck. I _had_ to stop him.”

He _had_ to.

“I’m going to push him down on the bed.” Ryuudamon was calm. At least someone was calm. Wormmon was anything but calm. “Tighten the webs as I do so—we don’t want him hurting himself more.”

Ken began thrashing even more as Ryuudamon reared up on his hind paws and placed his forepaws on Ken’s chest, using his heavy bulk to force the chosen to lie back down. Under the weight and the restraints Ken was mostly rendered motionless, but he kept twisting his head, left and right, whimpering, “ _Get it_ out _.”_

Wormmon crawled forward, coming up by Ken’s shoulder. Ryuudamon gently took a paw and pressed Ken’s head to the side, revealing his exposed neck. It was red, from both irritation and blood where Ken’s nails had broken the skin. But there was still something there…hidden in the shadows of Ken’s matted hair. Wormmon crept forward, brushing the wet strands aside with a shaking claw.

Was it a…tattoo? Wormmon lightly touched it and Ken flinched, only Ryuudamon’s firm grip keeping him from whipping his head around to hide the mark.

“I see…”

He looked up at Ryuudamon, who was staring down at the black splotch intently, “What is it?”

The dragon didn’t respond, shaking his helmeted head and pulling back. The moment Ryuudamon’s weight left Ken’s chest the chosen began trying to tear at the restraints again.

Ryuudamon returned after a few minutes, carrying a golden chain in his claws. Dangling from the chain was an oval shaped red stone, a curious symbol carved into the otherwise smooth surface, but Wormmon couldn’t make it out, the colors blended together. He slipped the chain over Ken’s head, the gem settling against his chest. As soon as it touched the skin it flashed with a bright light, and then dimmed. Ken’s struggles died; his eyes at last fluttering shut. The tortured boy finally settled back into a deep sleep. The previously red stone was now stained black, the red barely visible around the edges. The symbol on the stone stood out starkly now, gold against the dark surface.

It looked familiar, but Wormmon didn’t pay too much attention to it—the fact that Ken seemed to be doing better was much more important to him.

“I had hoped to use that one on your other friend.” Ryuudamon shook his head again, “It will take me some time to make another.”

“What is it? And why does Ken need it?”

“It…is an ancient rune. Of protection and purification. He _shouldn’t_ need it. It shouldn’t affect humans… But, that mark on his neck contains a powerful evil. One that the corruption of this world will only feed.” Ryuudamon carefully tilted Ken’s head again, exposing that black mark again. He’d brought a washcloth with him, and began carefully cleaning the scratches, “It is too powerful to purify completely however, so the stone will draw out the corruption and purify it little by little. It is a temporary fix at best. At least until we can get you guys out of here. I do not know what possessed you all to brave the Dark Whirlpool—or how you survived.”

Wormmon shivered, pressing closer to Ken’s side. He could feel the stable breathing reassuring him that the sudden lack of thrashing was merely sleep and not worse. Ryuudamon sounded so calm as he said it, as if this sort of situation happened every day.

“Don’t worry.” The dragon seemed to catch on to some of Wormmon’s worries, and tried to smile at him. Unfortunately that merely ended up flashing a set of large teeth, being more disturbing than reassuring, “There are ways out of here, and the stone will serve long enough to track down one of them.” He finished by applying a wad of cloth to the scratches and covering it with some sort of bandage tape, letting Ken’s hair fall down over the patch, “Now, I must go attend to the other human. This world is hitting him _hard._ Although in not quite the same way.” He shook his head, his next words to himself more than anything, “If he is even human…”

“Will…he be alright?” Wormmon hadn’t left Ken’s side. Hadn’t seen Kouichi since Ryuudamon had carried both humans back to his hut, placing them each in a different room. With Ken at least…at some semblance of peace, Wormmon began to remember how the other boy looked, and worried.

“He has a stronger connection to the darkness than your friend does, and… I’ll be frank, I have never seen anything like it before.”

That wasn’t reassuring at all. He worried. And he kept worrying, even as he finally drifted off to sleep.

x-x-x

There was something green in his vision. Ken’s return to consciousness was rather abrupt, almost leaving him dazed. The thing moved, antennae twitching and worried eyes peering down into his face. He knew that face. He knew it better than anyone. Wormmon. How could he forget Wormmon?

That was Wormmon. Wormmon was there as he opened his eyes. The digimon ducked out of the way as Ken sat up, rubbing at the sharp, fading pain in his neck. Had he been lying on it wrong? But…there was something there. A raised wad of…cloth? A bandage? He felt around more, his fingers finding a metal chain nestled just underneath the cloth. That shouldn’t be there… It felt heavy. He followed the feel of the chain, to an…amulet? That wasn’t his. He moved to pull it off, but Wormmon reached up to touch his arm, “Ken please. Don’t touch it.”

Reluctantly, he drew his hand away, and Wormmon crawled into his arms. The little digimon was staring up to him, relief and hope shining in his eyes. Ken couldn’t help the sudden tightening in his throat, or the way he scooped Wormmon up and hugged him, completely putting aside the matter of the necklace. Wormmon was more important right here, and right now. He didn’t remember his fading dream, but given his reactions, he didn’t really want to. “How’re you feeling, Ken?”

“I…better.” Which was only a half-truth really. Even more than the faint throbbing in his neck, Ken was in pain. His head felt like he’d banged it against the wall a couple times, and his muscles ached. He rubbed at his wrists, and winced, looking down and seeing the bruises. Bruises wringed his wrists, looking almost like—

“I’m sorry…” Wormmon whispered, following his gaze, “You had a nightmare. You were—I had to stop you—”

“Shh. It’s fine, Wormmon.” Ken didn’t exactly what Wormmon was talking about, but he was fine. Nightmares…Nightmares were par for the course. Especially considering where they were going…

_Falling, clinging to the digimon’s neck. The whirlpool formed around them, the dark tunnel of water leading ever downward. Ken knew what waited for them. He buried his head in Shyamon’s mane. He didn’t want to see it._

No. Where they _were._

It was a quaint little hut, somewhat rough. If Ken would stand up, he was sure he’d have to hunch or risk hitting his head on the ceiling. The door was little more than an arch cut into the wooden wall, with a grey sheet the only thing blocking the view of the further building. All in all, there was nothing sinister about it.

But something made the bottom of his stomach fall out, and only _part_ of it was how washed out everything looked. Even Wormmon’s blue eyes seemed almost grey, his normally olive-green carapace so faded…

Ken had seen it before. Felt it before. The Dark Ocean. But there was something different. It wasn’t quite as _oppressive_ as he remembered. It still made his skin crawl, still filled his heart with dread…But…

It was…dampened.

“Where…are we?”

“Ryuudamon’s home.” Wormmon responded, and Ken used the very real weight of the digimon in his arms to remind him that this wasn’t a dream. That he wasn’t here alone, “He…when we fell…It was horrible.” His partner shuddered, and Ken just let him shiver for a few moments, “It was grey—black _everywhere._ One minute we were underwater, the next…I woke up just as Devimon’s mocking laughter was fading away. Ryuudamon was telling Devimon to take his games somewhere else, and to be glad he got to see the light every month or so. He then took one look at you and Kouichi—you were out cold and Kouichi was convulsing—I don’t know what happened. He must have devolved. There was this horrible black cloud _everywhere…”_ Wormmon took a deep breath, clinging to Ken just as much as Ken was clinging to him.

“Ryuudamon took Kouichi back first. The darkness seemed to be _attacking_ him. It lessened once he was gone…but it was so _empty_ and you were so _still…_ You wouldn’t wake up. Ryuudamon came back and I followed as he brought you here. He’s been caring for you, Ken. When you had that nightmare…That necklace…it stopped it.” Wormmon touched a purple claw lightly to the pendant. Ken had never gotten a good look at it. His hand closed around the chain, lifting the smooth stone out of the folds of cloth. The black coloring made his stomach churn, but it was the symbol that caught his immediate attention. That symbol. It nagged at his memories. He recognized it…but it was the wrong color…

“Please don’t take it off.” Wormmon was almost pleading with him now, “Ryuudamon said it would keep the corruption at bay. And it _worked_. The nightmare went away—”

“Don’t worry. I won’t move it.” Ken dropped the necklace, all the while digesting that new tidbit of news. Corruption? Could that be the usual oppressive atmosphere he remembered from the Dark Ocean? It did feel significantly less unnerving this time. But speaking of Anyamon… “Where…is Kouichi? Is he alright? You said he was brought back first.”

“I haven’t seen him…but Ryuudamon said he wasn’t doing too well. He’s in one of the other rooms.”

He just had to check on Ki—Kouichi. It had been Ken’s idea to go to the Dark Whirlpool. If anything happened to him…

Ken wasn’t quite aware of when he moved. One moment he’d been sitting on the bed, the next he was by the door, his aching body protesting, but doing its job satisfactorily. Wormmon scrambled after him in concerned manner—when had he put him down?

The sheet wasn’t very heavy, more meant to separate the space than to block access or even regulate temperature. Ken easily pushed it aside; holding the grey cloth open for Wormmon to scuttle through—and then he froze, the sheet falling from his limp hand to settle in its place.

Perhaps the room he’d been placed seemed nothing more than a quaint little cottage, even if Ken had to stand hunched to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, but _this_ room... It wasn’t even that the décor was overly different.

All the furniture—which consisted of a few bean bag type chairs, a low table, and a couple cushions—were pushed back against the wall, leaving an open space in the center of the small sitting room / kitchen area. A pile of blankets and cushions were fashioned into a makeshift pallet. Ken’s hand went to the stone around his neck—four others were placed around the pallet, forming a barrier around…the darkness within.

That’s all Ken could use to explain the sight before him. A cloud of shadow hovered over the pallet, nearly obscuring the fact that there was _anything_ within the square of black stones. But the stones appeared to be drawing the cloud away from the center, and as Ken watched the opacity would decrease for a time, before a new surge of blackness blanketed the area again.

It was during one of these decreases that Ken managed to catch a glimpse of the person in the center of that dark cloud. He’d suspected—he _thought_ it was Kouichi. But it couldn’t be. The sweat slicked hair was _blonde_ , not black. As the darkness ebbed and flowed, drained off by the stones and then replenished by the world, Ken watched in stunned horror as the boy twisted and tossed, claws clenching, and then fingers would unclench. Black hair would bleed into the blonde, and then be washed away again. A tail thrashed, the golden tuft bright in the shadowed space, and then vanished.

_He’s caught mid-evolution._

Some logical part of Ken’s brain was still paying attention, still putting together the pieces even as the rest of it was off gibbering in the corner. Kouichi kept shifting toward human, and then would jerk back to digimon—But…that wasn’t Anyamon. Was it one of his other evolutions?

_Something’s trying to force it, but it can’t complete and then reverses. Why?_

He’d…never thought about what happened within the cloaking light when a digimon digivolved. He never thought about how their bodies twisted and warped when they changed. How did Wormmon become Stingmon? Was it as painful looking as _this?_

_Could it be…there’s not enough_ power _to complete the change?_

_Or was the darkness blocking it somehow?_

But despite Wormmon’s previous description, the darkness wasn’t _attacking_ Kouichi. This didn’t _feel_ like the active evil and malevolence that the rest of this dark world gave off, even dampened by the stone hanging around his neck.

“Can we go back, Ken?” Wormmon’s wavering voice caught Ken’s attention. The digimon clung to Ken’s pant leg, huddling behind his partner, staying away from the dark cloud, “We can’t—it’s _hurting_ him. It’s like…watching Agumon again.”

  1. Yes. He could see it. The digimon, ringed and under his control. Then he’d try his digivice. Try to force the evolution. Even through the ring’s control Agumon would cry out, convulsing as the dark ring forced the incompatible energy through him. Wormmon would come to him, plead with him— _Please do your experiments on_ me. _Let Agumon go—_



Ken dragged his thoughts out of that dark path, even as he knew there were secrets lurking down there that would likely help. He didn’t want to touch that again.

Besides—he _had_ successfully helped Kouichi digivolve to Shyamon. What was so different now?

…There was only one digivice on the table.

Kouji’s blue and black D-Scanner sat silent and dead. Ken grabbed for his in his pocket. Only two dots stood blinking on the screen—the third was further away. Much further than this room.

Only two dots. Two digivices.

_Flamemon hadn’t needed a digivice…_

_But Flamemon wasn’t human._

He didn’t know if it would work without a Dark Ring. Without Kouichi’s digivice. They’d worked _together_ on the beach. This would be Ken alone.

But…he couldn’t just leave it like this, with someone else writhing in pain.

“Wormmon…I’d suggest you stay back.” Ken took a deep breath and strode forward, keenly aware of Wormmon’s protests. His skin crawled uncomfortably the closer he got. The stone around his neck was growing heavier, dragging him down.

x-x-x

Kouji hunched in on himself as the pain retreated. Shadow whimpered in his mind. The other hadn’t even bothered to throw a reflection—Kouji didn’t blame him. _He’d_ felt like he’d been thrown through a wringer as the lock had clicked, and turned. Shadow must be feeling it just as badly. Neither of them really wanted to see what they looked like after that.

It had tried to force them to _digivolve_. But why—how?—they didn’t have their D-Scanner—the program was on the D-Scanner.

 _“I’m still connected to it”._ Shadow hissed, his thoughts faded with pain. _“I can feel it, but it had been so weak from distance since we were taken.”_

Kouji didn’t want to remember that. LordKnightmon’s _visit_ when they realized they couldn’t find his D-Scanner was bad enough. He still couldn’t talk properly, but that hadn’t stopped LordKnightmon from knocking him around some more as he vented his frustration—even if he had ordered a plant-type digimon called Aruraumon to heal him afterward. The purple-flowered digimon had done so only grudgingly, and had done nothing for his jaw. He suspected she’d deliberately left a rib busted as well.

Luckily LordKnightmon ignored him most of the rest of the time. It gave them time to nurse their wounds. Kouji was starting to worry though—they hadn’t been fed at all. His stomach, when he decided to stop ignoring it, would end up being a yawning pit.

_Do you think they found it?_

_“No,”_ the other was firm, “ _Not only would he come and gloat immediately…but if the locking program tried to get us to digivolve…”_

_That meant Kouichi was here. And tried to dedigivolve._

_“Or was forced to dedigivolve.”_ Remembering the Trial of Courage, Kouji almost wished Kouichi had succeeded. At least as a digimon he wouldn’t be so damn helpless. When he realized Shadow was still here, he’d hoped that—like Flamemon—he wouldn’t need his D-Scanner to evolve.

But…after the tenth time, they’d figured out it wouldn’t work. The best they could do was let Shadow trade off, anything more—“ _Flamemon’s spirits were integrated in his data. I can feel ours, but…the activation program is on the digivice. That’s how they were able to keep you from evolving in front of the Chosen”_

But _now…_ If the locking program could still reach them, even if just barely…maybe they could reach the other programs...

 _“No good. We’re too weak now to evolve anyway.”_ Shadow reflected as Kouji was hit with another hunger pang. He shuddered and pulled his knees up to his chest, and then winced as the movement jarred his sore ribs. “ _If we had been able to, I’d assume the lock would have forced us.”_

_We’ll have to rely on Niisan then…_

And the thought of Kouichi in this Dark World send a shudder through Kouji’s sore body. This world wasn’t Darkness. Not the same pure elemental force Kouichi championed. This was corruption—a world quarantined, long since infected by some overwhelming evil.

_Be careful, Niisan._

This world was Duskmon. Corrupted and twisted. Evil. He could feel it picking at him, every moment he sat huddled in this lonely cell. Shadow huddled closer, the two leaning on each other just to stay sane.

x-x-x


	27. Sphinxmon's Legacy

“ _Humans._ Idiots the lot of them.”

The words broke through the haze of exhaustion and sleep that clouded Kouichi’s mind. The voice was unfamiliar. He should be worried. He felt like he’d been tossed around by the Royal Knights, and his last hazy memories were of diving into a whirlpool of _evil_. Not Darkness, but _evil._

But…even if his body felt…off…and he was tired…and drained and every other possible synonym of the word…

“And you, Wormmon! I thought you had enough sense to keep your human in bed considering what happened just a couple hours ago! He just had to go and breech the circle—he’s lucky _he_ didn’t end up like my warding stones. That sheer amount of energy can be _dangerous.”_

“Ken wouldn’t listen to me.” Wormmon sounded miserable, “I wanted to go back. I asked him to go back…”

Ken. Was something wrong with Ken? And who was that with Wormmon? Kouichi’s limbs felt like lead as he forced his eyes open. There was a wooden ceiling above him—that didn’t seem too bad. Rather normal, actually.

The conversation cut off and Kouichi forced himself to roll over, propping himself up on his elbow. He was lying on the floor in the center of a large room. The blankets he’d been lying on were shredded—by claws? He wasn’t Anyamon right now, but he could have dedigivolved. He remembered…Shyamon. The furniture had all been pushed aside, back to the edge of the room. Where was Ken?

“Oh, good. It’s nice to see _one_ of you conscious.” A furry dragon digimon shifted over by the furniture, throwing a look over his shoulder at Kouichi’s movement. His scales almost looked like armor…no. It _was_ armor. They were black interlocking plates, with purple accents here and there. A horned golden helmet gave it the look of old-style samurai armor, complete with black and red “hair” accents. “You seem well enough…if…different than when I first saw you. Ah, but the darkness does strange things to digimon. I’d assume it’s the same for humans.”

Darkness? And what did he mean, different? He felt fine—if tired… Kind of stretched…and maybe sore. Everything felt rather disconnected.

But…where was Wormmon? This digimon seemed to match the second voice, but he’d heard Wormmon—

Ah, there he was. The little green digimon was huddled next to a pile of cushions. Why had they been so far away? He’d heard them like they’d been right next to him… There was something spread out on the cushions—no, not something. Someone.

“Ken!” Kouichi scrambled to his feet. The shredded blankets stuck to his fingers, and he tried to shake them free. A good flex, and his hands were free, and he was crossing the room quicker than he’d expected—maybe it looked bigger than it was?

And then he was at Ken’s side. The chosen was sprawled out on the cushions set before a low table. The dragon was studying something on the table but Kouichi didn’t pay him much attention. All the color had drained from Ken’s face—the already pale boy looking sickly—except for bruises that were just beginning to show. His D-3 was clenched in his hand, and only the shallow rise and fall of his chest proved that he really was just unconscious, and not worse. He turned to Wormmon, and the dragon, “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s just unconscious. Surprisingly. The idiot pulled a dangerous stunt.” The dragon grunted, and held something up to the light. It was a red stone on a golden chain, “All the other warding stones were shattered the moment he broke the barrier, except the one he was wearing. Good thing too, it will take me many days to make more, and I doubt he would last that long.”

The dragon tossed the chain to Kouichi, who caught it reflexively. A flex and the gold chain caught on black claws, the stone falling neatly into his palm. It was a red gem—reminding him of the same color and shine as Lowemon’s gemstones. It was a stark contrast against dark fur.

Wait…

Claws?

_Fur?_

But he _wasn’t_ Anyamon. He had _hands._ Lowemon had _gauntlets_. What was he?

He almost dropped the stone, and it would have fallen had the chain not been caught on his claws.

“Just put it around his neck. He should wake up shortly; I’m surprised that concentration of dark energy didn’t cause a relapse…” The dragon began muttering, and then shook his head, extending a clawed hand, “Forgive my rudeness, I never did introduce myself—I am Ryuudamon, and this is my home. I watch Devimon’s gate to make sure he never actually does escape. He’s been at it for thousands of years and he’s only gotten his torso out, so I think I’ve done a decent job.”

“Ko—Kouichi.” Except, perhaps not right now. He stared down at his clawed hands. The furred fingers moved when he did. They were _his_. He shook his head when Wormmon nudged him with a claw and pointed at the amulet. Right. He slipped the chain over the chosen’s head, needing to repeat that same instinctive flex to withdraw the claws to free the golden links. The moment the stone settled against the chosen’s chest it flared, the red quickly drawing _something_ into itself. Kouichi realized he could _feel_ it. An old, deep rooted taint being drawn along the chain and into the stone where it filled the void with black. The symbol carved into the amulet shone red against the black, where before it had been indistinct.

“Hmm, forgive me, but that name doesn’t suit you right now.” Ryuudamon was surprisingly quiet—Kouichi hadn’t realized the dragon had left his place at the table and shambled over to them, “Interesting. The rune is normally gold. I’ve never seen red before.”

Red was Duskmon. Just thinking that sent a tremor through Kouichi’s body. Could he be—no. No. Duskmon was the same as Lowemon—they both were completely armored, not furry.

…Hiryumon. Flamemon had two forms. Was this his other?

…What was his name? Everything was so jumbled. Hazy. But it was on the tip of his tongue.

Instead he asked a different question.

“What…is the symbol?”

He knew. It was the symbol that shone on his D-Scanner every time he spirit evolved. He just hadn’t thought it would exist in this sector—the warriors didn’t seem to exist outside of LordKnightmon’s memories.

Then again, there was an Angewomon here, and Ophanimon the guardian of their home sector…Patamon…Swanmon…

Could there be a Lowemon out there somewhere? A Wolfmon? An Agunimon?

“It is a rune left behind by Sphinxmon, the Lord of Darkness. When carved into a specific type of gem, it can draw out and purify the corruption that has begun to infest the Dark Area since his passing.” Ryuudamon tapped on his helmet, and Kouichi realized that the gemstone in it was of the same type of stone, “Most of the knowledge of the ancients was destroyed when Lucemon went rogue and was sealed away, but I am old enough to remember…”

The dragon chuckled, “Why am I still a rookie, you wonder? When one gets old enough, the chosen digimon are no longer the only ones who can evolve at will. Larger forms are inconvenient most of the time. Of course, given the current state of affairs…” He shrugged, “I don’t know what Anubimon is thinking _…_ he should know better. He was once the one who watched over the reconfiguration cycle—he _knows_ data gets corrupted if it is allowed to stagnate.”

 _Anubimon…_ Colors seemed to fade. He almost didn’t realize it when he asked.

“This…Anubimon…Where could I find him?”

_Kouji…_

That was right. There was a reason he was here. This was important. He had to find Anubimon.

Ryuudamon turned those reptilian green eyes on him again, “I’d quit while you are ahead. The Lords of Hell are well out of your league. You are in the Dark Area now. Be lucky the worse thing to happen to you is being turned into a _digimo--s_ omething I _still_ don’t understand. Your friend has been here before.” He nodded at Ken. He was looking better, color returning to his skin and his breathing evening out, “And it left a mark on him. A mark that twisted him, fed off his innocence and virtues to feed itself and grow. I do not know how he survived so long.”

“He didn’t.” Wormmon’s quite voice broke through. The small digimon looked up at them, “Not really.... I don’t…remember well…But seeing that mark…” He looked troubled, and then shook his head, “Ken _changed_ when he became the Kaiser.”

“Hmm. That does clarify some of the events Dragomon was talking about. A human whose influence reached even to our Area…of course, he’d have to have some connection to this place in the first place.” The digimon settled himself into one of the beanbag chairs, seemingly content to just idly chat the hours away on the subject of Digimon history. “We do not hear too much from the world beyond the Dark Area. Some digimon—such as Cerberumon can create rifts between our worlds, and of course Devimon’s been trying to force himself through for millennia. But mostly the Lords of Hell are content with their kingdoms, and most of their followers don’t know anything else even exists.”

“As interesting as this is—” Kouichi was trying to be patient. He really was. But now that he remembered he itched to leave. To go. His brother had already been gone for over twenty four hours. Kouichi _had_ to have hope that LordKnightmon wouldn’t just kill him when they realized Kouji had dropped his D-Scanner. He would _know_ if that happened _,_ right? Of course they would need him. Kouichi had to make sure he found Kouji before LordKnightmon ran out of patience. “I _need_ to find Anubimon.”

“And then what?” Ryuudamon asked flippantly. It irked Kouichi. It really. REALLY. Bothered him to see the other digimon act so dismissively, “If it’s the fate of the world, don’t worry about it. The Lords of Hell will take care of it. They hate anyone who upsets the balance of power, and Anubimon has done that. I assume they are just waiting for Belphemon—”

“I don’t care about that!” The words tore their way out of him, and he realized they were right. He _didn’t_ care that the digital world was in danger—he’d seen his _destroyed._ Sure, if possible he would help, but what drove him now was not an effort to be a hero. He _couldn’t_ leave his brother behind. He’d seen Kouji taken right in front of him—and with all Shyamon’s strength, and all his power, he hadn’t been able to do a single thing.

“I don’t care about the world. I am going to rescue my brother.”

Kouji was the only thing that mattered. Kouji had been the one to pull him out of the darkness. It was time for him to return the favor.

Kouichi headed for the door.

“Wait…”

His arm burned. The request was weak, but Kouichi found he couldn’t take another step. He couldn’t _move._

x-x-x

Ken used his arms to push himself up, even as they were trembling.

“You do care. Don’t say that.”

He stared at the trembling digimon in the door, trying to reconcile it with the quiet boy, and even quieter cat he’d gotten to know. He was humanoid, with a shock of gold hair—a mane?—the rest of his fur was black, including the ears twitching amidst the longer strands. A gold tufted tail lashed in agitation.

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have come with Yamato and I in the first place.”

The digimon-that-was-Kouichi didn’t turn.

“What if I regret it?”

Those words shocked Ken speechless. The digimon turned, red eyes boring straight into Ken’s. _Red._ Red. Not Kouichi’s blue. Or Anyamon’s gold.

“What if I regret letting Kouji go that night?” His face was half- hidden behind a cloth mask, but his eyes were shining, “What if I regret buying you guys enough time to get away? Togemogumon forced Kouji out of the hallway.” A clawed hand slashed out, slicing the air in a sharp motion, something black glittered in the light, hard to see against black fur, “The only thing I _truly_ care about was stolen by Anubimon because of that decision. Because I wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t _strong_ enough.”

“That’s why we need to stick together! Even if you can digivolve—you _can’t do this alone._ You help me find the Crest of Kindness again, and then Wormmon and I will help rescue your brother—Tailmon too if we can. That was the deal.”

“You don’t understand Ken.” His voice was sounding weird. Warping just the slightest bit. Up until now Kouichi sounded just as he had as a human. He seemed to be shaking, trembling in place, “Gennai didn’t tell you, did he? My _twin_ is the Warrior of Light. What do you think I am?”

The Digital World liked patterns. It was a world made up of data, which at the core of everything was a _pattern._ Angemon and Angewomon—the angels of Hope and Light. Takeru and Hikari, the youngest and most innocent of the original Chosen. The Crest of Love belonged to Biyomon—the Digimental of Love belonged to Hawkmon. Courage—Agumon and Veemon. Patterns. So many patterns.

Akemon was a white wolf. Anyamon was a black cat.

Kouji was the Warrior of Light. That would make Kouichi…

_“You forget what my element is, Gennai.”_

“ _Come home_ Warrior of Darkness!”

“This world is _my_ world. I won’t be too slow. I won’t be too weak. I have _power_ here. _I won’t fail my younger brother._ ”

A dark haze had been building around the digimon, one that Ken recognized. He’d seen it raging around Kouichi, caught painfully in between two forms. This one wasn’t wild. Wasn’t contained within the feeble barrier of four small stones. A symbol etched itself into the guard on his left arm, red against black.

“Kouichi—” This wasn’t right. Even…even right after, Kouichi hadn’t been like this. What was going on?

“The name is Keirmon.” The digimon’s face was half covered by a mask, but Ken could hear the increasing chill in the voice. “Let me go, Ken. I fulfilled my promise. I brought you with me. Now let me go find my brother.”

_Niisan! Come back!_

The cry echoed in his head. It echoed, over and over. Accusing him.

_Why did I wish him gone—why? Why?_

“I think you need to _sit down_ and stop the stupid posturing.” When had Ryuudamon moved? One moment the dragon had been watching the fight with thinly veiled surprise, and then he was suddenly behind Keirmon, springing off the floor in a surprising burst of agility. Kiermon whirled around and blocked the first hit, Ryuudamon’s claw glancing off the black and red metal of his wrist guard. Still Keirmon didn’t move, only turning to reposition himself as Ryuudamon put on a burst of speed in an attempted to get behind his guard again. Another block, but this time Keirmon didn’t just dodge. Black claws glittered even amongst the dark haze, a familiar purple glow threading along the wicked sharp points. He was going to counterattack—

Ken couldn’t stand it—“STOP! Both of you!”

A flare of red on his upper arm, and Keirmon froze, expression distorting in pain.

And then he crumpled to the floor under Ryuudamon’s precise attacks.

“That.” The dragon said slowly, hoisting the limp digimon over his shoulder, the cloud of darkness scattering and dispersing slowly like a flock of sheep without a shepherd, “Was not the boy I was conversing with a few moments ago.”

He crossed the room and deposited Kiermon on the bean-bag style chair he’d vacated, studying the cat with narrowed green eyes. Ken found it almost as soon as the dragon did, his blood running cold as trembling fingers traced the runed band of black metal encircling the upper arm. That was where Ken had grabbed, when he’d broken the barrier. He’d _needed_ the contact in order to use his D-3.

And then…he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything until he’d come to during the conversation. It hadn’t been until Koui—Keirmon had declared he was leaving that Ken had been gripped with an unreasonable fear, and managed to dredge up the strength to _try_ and stop him.

Stop him…

_“Wait…!”_

“ _STOP!”_

Red eyes.

It was a Dark Ring. Was that why he’d frozen in mid step? Was that why even as the digimon had grown colder and colder, almost trembling with anger, he hadn’t moved from that spot? He hadn’t even moved when attacked, other than to block.

_“Let me go, Ken.”_

How?

How had the dark ring appeared?

Did he _create_ it?

He couldn’t remember. It was fuzzy—the time when he’d been the Digimon Kaiser. How had he created the dark rings? The Dark Spires? He dug into the memories, attempting to force the answers out of them. His neck was throbbing, and Ken hissed in pain, shivering as small pinpricks seemed to race across his skin. The pressure was building, the small amulet around his neck becoming unbearably heavy. It had been like that before he’d passed out the last time.

He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to go back. Passing out would stop him from going back. From even touching that time of his life.

But he’d just put a dark ring on _Kouichi_ without even realizing it. Obviously the human-as-digimon was digimon enough to work, even in a limited fashion. He couldn’t afford to not know.

And then the pressure eased, the memory fragments skulking reluctantly out of the shadows of his mind.

He’d needed to use his computer for the Dark Spires, but the program for the dark rings…

It had initially been on his D-3 until he’d managed to automate the process. Arukenimon had deleted the data from his computer but…

“I…needed the connection. The interface.” Ken’s words were hardly more than a whisper as he stared with horror at what he’d done. The ring gleamed menacingly, somehow both subtly blending into the black fur and standing out damningly.

He’d used a dark ring to make Agumon digivolve. He’d needed to do the same here. His D-3 reacted to his desire, and activated that long unused program. Why had it been different on the beach? With Shyamon?

_He had his digivice then. We worked together._

“I’ve seen these rings before.” Ryuudamon seemed completely oblivious to Ken’s mounting horror. To the damning crime he’d committed. “For a couple years they’d been showing up, whether broken or whole. It’s a…method of control, isn’t it? Dragomon brought me one after a failed uprising of his servants after this Queen of Light—he thought I would be interested because it looked like a corrupted Holy Ring.”

“It’s a Dark Ring.” Wormmon explained quietly, Ken knew the digimon was watching him closely. Waiting for him to speak—or break, “The Digimon Kaiser created them to control his slaves. I hadn’t realized—Keirmon’s eyes were red, but some digimon _do_ have that color naturally. I thought it was just a metal band.”

“I know what you both are thinking.” The dragon sat back up—he’d been leaning close to inspect the individual runes carved onto the metal band, “While this ring likely did react to your voice and stopped him, it wouldn’t cause the personality shift. He’d been growing increasingly agitated after I mentioned Anubimon, but prior to that he seemed to be taking the situation remarkably well for what he’d just gone through. And that shadow…”

“We need to find his digivice.” Ken stood up abruptly, “I had to put the ring on him to stabilize the evolution. Once we return the digivice, I can take it off again.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” The digimon muttered, but refused to elaborate, “I have some research to do. Someone to contact. I’ll keep an eye on him while you look. Wormmon should remember the way.”

x-x-x

“Don’t.”

The command had Ken’s hand hovered over the ring, his fingers mere inches away from the spot that would unlock the seemingly seamless metal band.

It hadn’t been too hard to find the D-Scanner, it merely appeared to have fallen out of Kouichi’s hand when he’d dedigivolved, and had thankfully just been sitting innocently amongst the grey stones at Devimon’s feet. It was such a strange sight, the giant legs and body were motionless, vanishing into the grey sky. Even some scraggly vines had claimed the digimon’s feet and legs as prime climbing material, giving him the appearance of socks.The digimon didn’t appear to notice them at all.

By the time Ken and Wormmon had returned, the room was a complete mess. The table had been shoved away from the wall, and was now piled high with books, some thick, others thin—most looked _old_ , some with pages that cracked and threatened to crumble even as Ryuudamon turned them with careful claws.

“Why not?”

Keirmon’s red gaze glittered, “If you take it off, I would do something I would regret. And I don’t really want to do that.”

“If you don’t want to, then why would you?” Ken retorted, he was getting frustrated. His neck ached. “The dark rings had been shown to increase violent tendencies—if I take it off—”

“Don’t forget. I am _human_. The ring may affect my body, but not my mind.” The digimon shifted, wicked black claws sliding out into the light, “I _really_ don’t want to hurt you. You were the closest thing I had to a friend. Just _let me go._ Order me to leave. Let me go after Anubimon.”

“I’d advise against removing it as well.” Ryuudamon looked up from his books, a set of reading glasses perched precariously on his nose, “But I would also advise against letting you go. You have a worryingly strong connection to the darkness of this area—”

“The power I _need_ —”

“Please don’t interrupt me.” Ryuudamon gave Keirmon a reprimanding look, “It has been millennia since Sphinxmon’s fall. The corruption runs deep, in the fabric of nearly every corner of the Area. It drove Lucemon mad, and he had half the connection you do. You said so yourself—you do not want to hurt us. But you also admitted you would if you could. This schism—it _will_ warp you. It will warp you into something you may never return from.”

x-x-x

Everything was grey. Ken shivered; grateful they appeared to be on the edge of a shadowed wood and not within sight of the ocean. He was keeping it together. As long as he didn’t see that lonely shore…He should be fine.

The landscape was unnerving. The atmosphere was one of dread. But the thing Ken hated the most was the company.

Keirmon trudged mechanically a step behind Ken, that unnerving red gaze riveted on the horizon. He hadn’t spoken for hours. Not since Ryuudamon’s comment had shocked the digimon into stunned silence. Ken hated having to order Keirmon to move. Hated the way Keirmon had hissed and shot him a glare. Hated the way he’d begun to apologize—

“ _Don’t bother.”_

And then nothing.

At least Ryuudamon was having a jolly old time with it all. The dragon digimon seemed to welcome the chance to leave his home. He’d packed up a couple of old texts into a bag and was currently leading the line, occasionally humming a ditty or talking to himself. Keirmon would shoot him the occasional glare, but other than that they just followed in silence. Ken didn’t quite know where they were going.

“Oh, to Sphinxmon’s Fall.” Had been the only answer he would get. “A similar personality shift is a common symptom among unwarded data-type digimon who fall into this world, although it usually takes longer to manifest. I thought I would have time to make another stone since you just so happened to shatter my warding stones, but…well…”

And that was enough to justify following him. The black stone hanging around his neck felt heavier with every step he took, with every moment that passed, but he pushed on. If this… _thing_ was what was keeping away that soul clenching _evil_ and despair and hopelessness that he remembered…

Even the memories caused him shivers, the back of his neck aching. He still didn’t know what that was. Was it the chain holding the amulet? There would be occasion flashes of sharp hot pain, but most of the other times it would be a slow…dull…persistant ache.

Wormmon pouted at him every time he tried to pick at the bandage—and Ken remembered Wormmon’s pleas to leave it alone. He trusted his digimon. If Wormmon thought it helped…

The grey forest gave way to black mountains. Steep, rocky slopes, craggy peaks stark against the grey sky. Even Keirmon let out a whistle, “You expect us to climb _those?”_

“Of course not.” Ryuudamon chose to ignore the sarcasm directed at him, “The cavern is near the base of the mountain. Sphinxmon might have been solitary, but he did have the occasional friend who visited.”

He gestured to a small path that seemed to wind up the sharp slopes, meandering through the jutting spikes of rock that seemed to pop out of the huge black shape. Like daisies.

It was so empty. So bleak. So desolate.

It made Ken shiver.

Other than Devimon and Ryuudamon, they hadn’t run into a single digimon. Not a one in their journey, which had lasted a good six hours. Ken was too numb to be tired despite all the walking, and Keirmon wouldn’t have been able to stop if he wanted to, so long as Ken said “Let’s go.”

“It’s so empty…”

He didn’t realize he said it out loud until Ryuudamon shrugged and began picking his way up the path, “Those who wander in or fall in through rifts usually end up going mad if Dorumon, FanBeemon or I don’t find them. Sometimes even if we do. The virus has had _millennia_ to spread and mutate. Those who remain either have a means of resistant to it, or are too corrupted to care.”

“There are more of you, going about and picking up strays?” Oh? Keirmon actually seemed interested on the conversation. For once he wasn’t moving sullenly along. The mechanical nature of his motions flowed into more natural ones. He still resented every moment he was here, but at least he wasn’t glaring.

Although the way he was flexing his claws made Ken glad he’d forbidden fighting.

“We chose weak spots, where the borders are thin. Fanbeemon has the forest near Lilithmon’s domain. I’ve got Sphinxmon’s mountains, which border Daemon’s domain, and Devimon to watch out for. Dorumon keeps an eye on the edges of Beelzemon’s, although he’s been skulking near the desert since that strange machine appeared…said it warps the world strangely.”

Strange machine…? _Desert?_

“What about the _Ocean._ It seems like _all_ the Chosen seem to be stumbling through there.” Keirmon’s comment was supposed to be a jab at their competence, but it derailed Ken’s train of thought because he sincerely wanted to know, “Hikari and I were pulled through there…multiple times.”

“Dracmon…” Ryuudamon let out a long suffering sigh, “He’s _supposed_ to be watching Leviamon’s beaches. I keep telling Dorumon he needs to switch, but…Dracmon is unreliable. He likes to run off and play pranks, and since most of the Digimon are centered _inside_ the fortresses, he gets…distracted easily.”

The conversation died off. Ken wasn’t too interested in the social structure of this Dark Area, and it kind of…irritated him that one of his most traumatic memories happened because the one guarding it just so happened to get _bored._

At last, they stopped before a gaping cavern.

“Ahah. Here we are.”

x-x-x

Each grudging step just fed the fire, stirring up the poison boiling inside him. Intellectually, Keirmon knew that he didn’t _want_ Ken to take the dark ring off. It would be stupid. He was _angry_. And he _knew_ he was angry.

The anger. The hate. He’d felt it all before, three years ago.

The fact that he could recognize it worried him. Duskmon hadn’t known what was blinding him. What was warping him. Twisting him. Cherubimon had been careful to keep that smoothed out.

Keirmon knew full well there was something wrong with him. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Here, this world was already blanketed by a darkness so much worse than even the Dark Continent. He could feel the power that coursed through his body—he could feel it straining against the Ring’s influence. There had been a reason Duskmon had been able to easily defeat ALL of the other Warriors on his own. He had been in his element. _This_ was his element. He was feeling more and more comfortable as the time went on.

But _this_ —itwas like Duskmon. _This_ was like the virus that had corrupted Cherubimon. Who corrupted Kouichi and _twisted_ him.

_I’m still twisted. I just never realized how much._

This wasn’t like the Trial of Courage. He couldn’t _feel_ another’s will bearing down on him. He was in his own mind. _He_ unreasonably wanted to dig his claws into Ken, merely because the Chosen had tried to stop him. Because he _was_ stopping him. Because Ken was _right_.

One thing Keirmon had been given was a lot of _time_ to think during this little…side-trek. To think. And to stew. Thanks to the dark ring he could just stop paying attention and he’d be forced to move anyay. If he did that, then he wouldn’t get angry at them for keeping him from going after Anubimon.

But …there was _something_ here. Something that called to Keirmon, brought him out of his head and back into the world. Something that distracted him from the poison seeping through his thoughts, and his makeshift attempts at damage control.

The cavern was just as large inside as it had seemed from without. Keirmon almost wondered how large Sphinxmon had been to require such a large home. Then again, digimon seemed to follow the larger-is-stronger pattern more often than not.

Ryuudamon had produced a lantern from his bundled pack, casting the light into the darkened space. It actually irritated Kiermon, limiting his vision. So he pulled ahead of the light, only half heeding Ken’s warning not to go too far. Given the slight tightening of the metal after the warning, the ring wouldn’t let him.

He turned a corner, claws scraping along the stone wall. The sound was comforting, it allowed him to ease just a little of the tension that had built up in him. The light from the lantern was cut off, and he reveled in the utter darkness, his eyes adjusting almost immediately. His movements slowed, his body stiffening—apparently out of sight was considered too far—but he didn’t pay it much mind, too fixated on the sight before him.

It was an open room, cavernous, stretching even beyond his sight. Gashes and craters littered the floor, half the ceiling had caved in. There was some light leaking in from a small hole in the ceiling, but it was swallowed by the sheer immensity of this place. Where colors were faded in this world, this _shone._ It glittered, even in the faint light that happened to seep in, streams of red crystal flowing over and through the rocks, meandering through the darkness.

Keirmon was drawn to it, struggling to lift one clawed foot after another. Fighting the Dark Ring’s restriction. It was just a few more steps out of the hallway. A few more steps. Ken’s voice faded, even as it got louder.

One more step—

Keirmon nearly fell forward as the force holding him back abruptly vanished, along with everything else. The cavern vanished into a dark abyss—he could feel the stone beneath his feet still, but any view he had was abruptly cut off. A giant red icicle hung overhead—the only thing he could see. It towered above him, suddenly much—much closer.

 _“What the—“_ Kiermon shifted as he heard something else in this void. Someone stumbled, and he could hear a hiss of pain as they hit the floor. Keirmon moved—if it was Ken—and then he froze.

That wasn’t Ken kneeling on the stone; color a stark contrast to the darkness around him. Kouichi knelt less than a few feet from Keirmon, nursing a scraped knee. Red was seeping into the beige coloring of his khakis, the fall enough to break the skin.

The human looked up at Kiermon’s hiss of surprise. Blue eyes widened, and then he cast around suddenly, as if searching for someone else—

“I’m here.”

Anyamon melted into view on Kouichi’s other side, golden eyes seeming to shine in the light given off by the large red stone.

They were all here.

And there weren’t any words needed. Keirmon reached down and offered Kouichi his hand, the boy hesitated— _am I really this weak?—_ and grasped it. Anyamon quickly came up on the other side, using his bulk to help steady the human when he faltered.

The thought drifted through his mind.

Kouichi was limping, khakis torn and bloody where his knee had met the ground. Keirmon had to stoop—he was slightly taller—and wrapped a supporting arm around the boy’s shoulder. The human clung to him.

_He’s so…weak._

That…wasn’t right. He wasn’t weak. He was strong.

 _They_ were strong.

 ** _WEAK_**. **_The weak only deserve death!_**

****

The crushing force crippled him, sending him to _his_ knees. Kouichi was dragged down with him, but Anyamon caught him, throwing himself under the human’s flailing arm. That pressure kept pounding down on him, and he could _feel_ it now. It wound its way through the darkness, small, quiet, _poisonous._ It fed on his fear. On his anger.

_I don’t need him._

****

**_ Why would I need him? _ **

****

**I am strong.**

****

_ I am strongest of all. _

****

**_Nothing matters._ **

****

** Only the goal. **

****

Only the goal.

****

Millions of tiny little whispers in the back of his mind, wearing down at his thoughts. His hands trembled.

And then there was one.

****

Kouichi lowered himself to the black stone beside Keirmon. An instinctive flex, and claws were sliding silently out, scraping against the stone floor.

_Humans are weak._

_The human drags me down._

_Kouichi won’t take the ring off._

_He doesn’t want me to hurt them._

_Ken_ dares _to command me._

_They keep me from my brother._

Kouichi held out a hand, one arm looped around Anyamon’s neck. He was reaching for Keirmon. Trying to help him up. Keirmon raised a trembling hand—

**_Kill. Them._ **

****

Claws bit down into flesh, warm, sticky blood threading its way through his fingers. Kouichi cut off a cry of surprise as they tore through fabric and flesh, and he fell forward, into Keirmon’s waiting arms.

“ _Do digimon bleed?”_

x-x-x

Ken and Ryuudamon rounded the bend, the lantern throwing its light across the waiting cavern. It sent the red crystals blazing with color, throwing the reflections all over the darkened walls. Ken had expected a deposit of the stone, given it was their reason for trekking all this way out here, but even he had to suck in a breath at the sheer _beauty_ of the place. Part of the cavern had collapsed, and rivers of the red crystal rushed over the fallen stones, a stream bouncing over the rocks that made its bed. The veins of red stone spread across the cavern floor, branching off of one another. It almost seemed to be a liquid that had been frozen in stone. The colors were _brilliant_ in the lantern’s glow, seemingly immune to the normally desaturated fate of this world.

Keirmon had beaten them there, but the digimon stood robotically by the wall, blank red eyes staring off into the distance. Ken sighed and shook his head. He’d hoped that the increased enthusiasm had been a sign that the digimon had been about out of his funk. Apparently not. If even a sight of this magnitude brought out nothing more than a blank stare…

“This…is Sphinxmon’s Fall.” Ryuudamon took the time to look out over the glittering river of crystal, “Lucemon confronted Sphinxmon here, the story goes, and they fought. Lucemon infected Sphinxmon with a virus to weaken him, and brought the cave down around him.” He nodded to the fallen rubble, “The blood seeped from between the stones, flowing and eventually crystalizing into the frozen streams you see before you.”

That…was rather morbid. The flow of crystal was _massive._ Not to mention blood didn’t _become_ crystal. And…

“Do digimon bleed?”

He’d never thought about it before. Memories rose unbidden—digimon forced to fight, whipped, beaten. Bruises. Cuts. Scrapes. But no blood. Why would there be blood? They weren’t flesh, they were data. Living data. Programs with souls and personalities as real as any human, but still data. There would be no reason for them to bleed.

“Usually not, but it makes for an interesting story, does it not?” Ryuudamon flashed him a toothy smile and trotted to the nearest crystal flow. This one wasn’t as smooth as the others; small sharp grooves littered the edge, places where small pieces of stone had been chipped off. Ken almost asked why he didn’t just keep a stock of the stone at home, but something else caught his attention.

_Drip._

He turned toward the sound. It echoed in the cavern. At first he wondered if it was his imagination, running away with Ryuudamon’s story. Then he caught sight of Keirmon in the shadow of the doorway. He had moved.

He was holding his arm, claws digging deep into the dark fur.

x-x-x

_“What are you doing? STOP!”_

Keirmon’s hand froze. He couldn’t tighten it anymore, but the pain was still there. It stabbed through the haze surrounding him, the roaring of blood in his ears drowning out the never ending voices. Kouichi huddled in his hold, hands wrapped around Keirmon’s, holding them. The blood bubbled out of their hands, matting the short fur that covered his arm. Keirmon could feel it as it seaped down, dripping onto the stone floor.

The shining red stones beamed up at him, a pattern of stars in the sky. If he focused on the pain, the real physical pain, then he could block out the whispered poison, the thousand and one little voices threading through his thoughts.

Don’t listen.

Just don’t listen.

It was Duskmon all over again.

He was drowning. Drowning in hatred, in bitterness, in fear.

The darkness surged within him. His fangs bit into his cheek as he clenched his jaw. Kouichi’s presence was a comforting weight, his hands helping to staunch the bleeding to a manageable flow. Anyamon was a quiet support, the large cat curling up and his side.

He--they weren’t like this. Deep down he knew that. He knew pain. He knew sadness. He knew the quiet simmering anger, never hot enough to show, but bitter poison. It was that bitter poison that Cerubimon had fed, drowning out everything else.

He needed help. He needed help before he drowned in the poison.

He needed his brother.

But Kouji wasn’t here. Kouji needed _him._ And he needed the power to save him.

But the voices promised power. The voices promised much. But they wanted him to **_kill them_. **

x-x-x

**_Kill them…_ **

****

Kouichi shuddered at the thought. Keirmon was shaking, clawing into his own skin to keep from lashing out. He couldn’t do _anything._ Nothing except staunch the wound.

This world wasn’t filled with darkness. It was filled with _evil_. An evil that twisted all those it touched.

He could feel it eating at them. Gnawing at their already shredded soul. Split into three like this…it felt so odd. So wrong. It was a temporary quarantine. Something to buy them time. Kiermon was containing the virus, but he was counting on Kouichi and Anyamon to come up with a solution.

 _Anyamon…_ The cat was gone. The furry warmth at his side was suspiciously absent. He looked around for the other digimon, only to find him crossing the rivers of stone. He dropped something in Kouichi’s lap.

It was one of those red crystals, but this one wasn’t rough like those forming from the spilt blood, or smooth like the ancient flows that covered the cavern’s floor. It was cut, neatly faceted. The overall shape of it was a pentagon.

Something about that…Kouichi groped in his memory. He remembered placing a necklace around Ken’s neck…

_When carved into a specific type of gem, it can draw out and purify the corruption…_

Purify the corruption…

That was it!

He scrabbled for the stone, cupping it in his shaking, blood covered hands. How could he carve it? He didn’t have claws. He was just a human.

He locked eyes with Keirmon, wild and red with pain and fear and determination.

x-x-x

The stone settled into Keirmon’s palm. The rune was shallow, messy, each mark painstakingly won. Kouich’s fingers were torn, his fingernails bloody and stained from both Keirmon’s wounds and his own labors. His hands shook as he closed Keirmon’s claws over the faceted stone. The digimon hissed in pain, and then let out a soul rending shriek as red light blazed between their cupped hands.

Kouichi doubled over as the wave of pain washed through him as well, tearing out every little bit and piece of corruption that had seeped into their data since Devimon’s attack. It left them feeling raw. Empty. Weak and shaking.

But they had each other. Kouichi leaned on Keirmon, Keirmon held onto Anyamon, and Anyamon shuddered in Kouichi’s lap.

The red icicle sparkled above them, lit from within. All three of them looked up, only to have the entire thing _shatter_ , splinters and shards raining down, but never touching them. A jumble of data slowly sank from the former crystal’s heart.

It almost looked like Digicode.

_Children of my shattered power…_

_x-x-x_

One moment Keirmon was standing there, blank face and empty eyes. The next he was on his knees in what looked suspiciously like a splatter of blood.

Blood. But digimon didn’t _bleed._

Ken rushed to his friend. The dark ring was glowing—the runes etched into the surface a fierce angry red. Was it hurting him? He had to get it off—

Red-stained claws caught his wrist as he went for the release.

“Don’t.”

The croaked voice was raw, as if he’d been screaming this whole time and Ken hadn’t been able to hear him. Red still gleamed in those eyes, but it wasn’t as deep. Wasn’t as overwhelming. Wasn’t as full of malice and anger.

“Leave it.”

He sounded tired. Exhausted. Everything about his stance, about his expression just screamed that he wanted to pass out where he knelt. His hands were trembling

“What…happened?”

The hand not holding Ken’s wrist opened, palm up, to reveal a pentagonal shaped stone, a sloppy, shallow carving of Sphinxmon’s rune blazing gold on its surface. This one was different from Ken’s—his remained that same chilly black so long as it remained around his neck—it was _pure_ , a deep dark red, as if it had been plucked from the very heart of Sphinxmon’s Fall.

“We managed…to clense it. For now.” The breaths were heavy, “But…Sphinxmon is so _very_ angry…”

And then he crumpled, only Ken’s quick reflexes saving him from a nasty reunion with the stone floor.

_Sphinxmon?_

“But Sphinxmon is _dead.”_ Ken shook his head. Keirmon was a heavy weight, dragging him down to the stone floor with him. Something crackled beneath his weight, Ken shifted, brushing the loose stones out from under him.

They glittered red in the light. Rough, tiny drops of crystal.

The dried blood on Keirmon’s claws.

_“The blood seeped from between the stones, flowing and eventually crystalizing into the frozen streams you see before you.”_

“So…I was right.” Ryuudamon. Ken looked up to see the little dragon eying them thoughtfully. A spark, and suddenly he was _angry._ Was this all some sort of puzzle to him? Keirmon had been going _insane._ He’d _cut_ himself. If the spray of red stone around him—where there hadn’t been _any_ before—truly _was_ blood…

This Dark Area. This world. Ken hated them all.

His neck ached.

“Right about what?” He snapped, and then went to rub at his neck with his free hand. Keirmon hadn’t released his other. If this pain _was_ the result of that chain…

“Did you know, digimon who die in the Dark Area do not get reconfigured?”

The sudden deviation ended up breaking off Ken’s thought, and he dropped his hand to his lap, leaving the chain as it was, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Besides. Nothing was getting reconfigured right now. Gennai had said so.

“Years upon years worth of data, never reconfigured. It seeps into everything it can, rewriting code, causing just little things. Glitches. Bugs. But they stack up. Just one snap—and Lucemon became Apocalymon who even the Lords of Hell had to seal away, or he would have destroyed everything.”

“This isn’t really a time for a history lesson.”

Ryuudamon shook his head, “All the data. _Including_ the Lord of Darkness himself.”

 _Sphinxmon is so_ very _angry…_

“His power…it reminds me so much of Sphinxmon.” Ryuudamon traced the symbol emblazoned on Keirmon’s gauntlet with a claw, “Data down here does not get reconfigured…but it is absorbed by the environment. By nearby digimon. But the digimon must be compatible with it. Sphinxmon was unique. I only fear that time would not have been kind.”

No. It wouldn’t be. Stagnating. Never dumped. Never cleaned. No anti-virus to catch the glitches that can pop up. Ken knew enough about programming to understand that. There was a reason there were backups. Restore points. But…why would the residual data of an ancient digimon be affecting _Kouichi_ of all people. He wasn’t even from the sector.

_Sphinxmon’s rune._

“That rune,” Ken gestured to it, “I’ve seen it before.”

“Oh?”

“Keirmon…isn’t the only digimon Kouichi can digivolve into.” Ken had only seen Shyamon and Anyamon… He fumbled for his D-Terminal. It had a digidex of his own creation. Izzy’s collected everyone’s data and centralized it, but Ken’s was limited to what he had personally seen, and would automatically update the entries with new data and abilities. He’d made it…back then. It used to be on his computer. He’d copied it over after Arukenimon tried to wipe his computer. It was one of the few programs he could salvage. He had no idea how to recreate the automatic updating, much to Izzy’s disappointment. He honestly didn’t know how he’d managed to do _any_ of the things he’d done as the Digimon Kaiser. It was just so…hazy.

Only…that haze was thinning. And it scared him.

He hovered over the home screen—no signal. Of course there would be no signal. They’d been gone long before the other chosen woke up. They would have been at the Dark Whirlpool before the other chosen would realize they were missing.

Had Daisuke tried to email him? Had they tried calling his home, only to have his confused mother say he was staying over at Takeru’s…? Would Gennai tell them? Without the digimentals they couldn’t even _reach_ the Dark Whirlpool, but knowing Daisuke he’d _try._

The school would call home, letting his parents know of his absence. And then tomorrow. And then Friday. How long would this take?

As long as needed.

He flicked through the menus, pulling up the Digital Index. Anyamon was near the top of the list.

Ryuudamon stared long and hard at the picture on the small screen. Ken noticed the image was different now. The rune that had once blended into the black fur, that dark royal purple…was a burnished gold, but that wasn’t all.

Gold and black armor glittered on the panther’s shoulders, a chest plate fitting snugly between the two and wrapping back to cradle the thick neck. He zeroed in on the headdress, however. A pentagonal red stone fit snugly in a black headpiece, gilded gold running through the black metal. That stone…

“Anyamon.” Ryuudamon read aloud, “Hybrid level. Variable type. Known attack is Petite Meteor.”

And then he paused. There were more lines of description than there used to be.

_Dark elemental digimon. Contains fragments of Sphinxmon’s data. Alternate evolution: see Keirmon. Evolves to Shyamon._

Ken scrolled through the list, finding Keirmon nestled under Kabuterimon. He opened that entry.

The image showed Keirmon as he was, even down to the red eyes and the dark ring clamped around his upper arm. The wristguards showed Sphinxmon’s rune clearly, although instead of the gold of Anyamon, it was a much darker red. The rest of the armor followed the same color pattern, black with red accents. There was one thing in the picture that Ken couldn’t see on Keirmon right now…a…necklace of sorts. Black metal wrapped around neck and shoulders, bordered by red. In the center of the plate was a familiar pentagonal shaped red stone…

Anyamon was black and gold. Keirmon was black and red.

_Hybrid level._

_Variable type._

_Corrupted Dark Elemental Digimon. Sphinxmon’s Legacy. Alternate evolution: see Anyamon_

_“We managed…to clense it. For now.”_

“It’s worse than I thought…” Ryuudamon muttered sadly, “He’s been claimed. Sphinxmon wasn’t evil…but he died with a virus ravaging his data. Your friend…is compatable. To an extreme degree. That a human is…is unbelievable. I thought his evolution was an effect of the Dark Area…but this Anyamon…”

 _The spirits._ Ken remembered. _The spirits were what allow them to digivolve. That’s what Gennai said._

But…what Kouichi did, standing on that cliff overlooking the water. He summoned code. He needed to use the D-Scanner. _That_ was Spirit Evolution.

When he’d digivolved to Anyamon…he hadn’t needed to do all that. He’d just closed his eyes, took a deep breath and _changed._

Kouichi hadn’t had his digivice when he evolved to Keirmon.

 _Is_ _it the spirits that are compatable?_

_Or has it something to do with Kouichi?_

_Is he truly, completely human?_

Ken didn’t know. And he couldn’t even ask.

 _Or…was it to do with_ me _? With what I did?_

Ken glanced down at his D-3. Black and grey reflected in the light cast by Ryuudamon’s lantern, the clink of claws against stone rang out as the dragon began to chip away at one of the flows of crystal. They _had_ come here for a reason, after all.

Ken had been the one to force the evolution. He’d been the one put a _dark ring_ on Keirmon.

Was Keirmon’s compatibility his fault?

Blocking evolution—forcing evolution, things only his Dark Digivice had been able to do—pressure began building behind his temples, a dam threatening to burst.

He’d received his digivice in one of his first trips to this world of black and grey, the device he’d held under the black water and watched it morph, holding it to his chest, the dark water seeping through his fingers, into his shirt.

It began with his digivice—the memories began seeping back into his mind—he’d created the dark spires to spread his digivice’s influence, to serve as a power source for his dark rings…but it started with his _digivice._

He clutched his head, it hurt. It throbbed, Wormmon was talking to him, but Ken couldn’t understand. There was nothing but pain, and memories. And those memories brought pain.

Dark Spires.

There were no Dark Spires.

Dark Rings wouldn’t work without Dark Spires.

His brain was working furiously, at a pace that made normal feel so mind-numbingly slow. How long had it been since he’d felt like this? So intense. So focused. Sharp. He was in pain, each moment feeling as if it were a hammer blow, but everything was _so clear._

Why did Keirmon’s ring work?

He needed to test it. To figure it out. If he didn’t figure it out he couldn’t _control_ it.

Was it his digivice? This _world?_ His digivice was from this world—connected—his base had run on the power. Where did the power come from…?

_The cycle is broken._

Something touched his knee, and he flinched, his train of thought splintering into tiny shards.

“Don’t touch me!” He found himself snarling, and then he stopped, the next words lodged in his throat, _“I told you to_ never _touch me.”_

Wormmon sat before him, eyes wide, but he wasn’t staring up at Ken. He was staring at the air between them, where a dark band of metal literally shimmered into the world, bits and bytes of data drawing together and coalescing in the lantern light. Ken’s D-3 was glowing, the screen a deep red, the color reflected by the runes shining faintly along the band.

_No!_

Ken shoved the device away from him, sending it skidding across the stones to bump gently against Wormmon’s outstretched claws. The light died. The ring hung in the air for a moment, spinning slowly. Then it fell to the ground with a metallic clatter, quivering—and then still.

x-x-x


	28. The Dark Area

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware of World Building. I took liberties with the Dark Area ;)

Hiryumon followed his memories, across worlds, across rivers of grass. He skimmed a familiar lake, following the subtle directions without even thinking about it. There was the house, large and normal looking for such an odd world. He tucked in his feathery wings and dropped, reveling in the speed and whipping of the wind. He hadn’t had the time to enjoy it years ago…by the time he’d attained his double spirit evolution things had been too serious. Moving too fast. And Vritramon wasn’t one for casual flying.

He wondered if Izumi ever missed this. The flight. The freedom. He almost wished he’d spent more time as a digimon—it felt so _right._

But it hadn’t. Back then. It was the other him. The one who was left behind with Flamemon. That was why it felt right. Normal. He felt… _complete._

 _Mind on the mission, Takuya._ He reminded himself forcefully. He was here for a reason, not to go gallivanting off around this other digital world, where no one knew about digi-code.

Or they didn’t used to know. Given the stunts the Dokugumon pulled, someone probably enlightened some of them.

 _Crazy bastard._ Hiryumon thought, not for the first time as he remembered LordKnightmon. The fruitcake might be insane, but he was a _powerful_ fruitcake. At least with both of them at full strength he and Kouji had a decent chance at taking him down since he didn’t have Dynasmon as backup. He wished Flamemon had called him sooner—as soon as he’d heard Kouji was in trouble, as a matter of fact. If they’d both been there…

If. If.

But Ifs were for people who wanted to sit around and mope. Takuya had learned that lesson from the Dark Trailmon.

He flared his wings and checked his speed, talons scratching against the wood as he settled down gently, peering around cautiously. It looked different in the daytime, but this was the same place he’d said goodbye to Kouichi. No—that hadn’t been him. Sheesh this was confusing. It felt like _he’d_ been the one sitting here, joking with Kouichi about Kouji in a princess dress.

Honestly, the thought _still_ made him laugh. He never knew Kouichi had it in him.

Kouichi had to have left by now. It had been well over a full day since Hiryumon had departed for home, and that was by _his_ count. He had no idea how that translated in this sector. Time in the digital world made his head hurt, even if half of him was used to it.

As much as he had enjoyed flying, this form was a little awkward on the ground. It felt both the same and different as he dedigivolved, returning to his human form. It was a little disorientating. Takuya was so used to thinking of human as _normal._ Flamemon had considered it just another of his evolutions. He went to adjust his hat, trying to push some of his hair out of his face when he realized there was more than he was used to. He caught some of the too long and bushy hair in his hand, eyeing it.

_Great._ With a shrug he let it fall back into place. He absently wondered why he looked so much like Flamemon while Kouji and Kouichi pretty much looked the same as they should.

_…eyes flashing a feral gold…_

Well. For the moment anyway. Or it could be time. Flamemon had the better part of three years of a headstart on the other two when it came to creating his own identity.

Takuya pondered the thought as he walked, letting that vague familiarity guide him through the hallways. It was much quieter and emptier. Good. He rather dreaded running into the Chosen. Awkward questions and all that. He really just wanted to talk to Gennai and get going. He wouldn’t even stop here if he even had an idea of where to go.

From what Flamemon remembered…Gennai usually hung out in the library. To be fair he’d only been around for a couple days but…it was a good enough place to start.

And it seemed like a pretty good guess, given the exasperated words he could hear through the closed door.

“How long do you plan on stubbornly stalking me?” That was the robed guardian alright. He sounded about the same as he had when he’d complained of Kouji skulking in his garden. Frustrated, but resigned to the fact that the source of his annoyance wasn’t going to leave any time soon. “The others gave up days ago.”

“As long as it takes you to tell me where Ken went! His parents are getting worried!” That brash voice was…Daisuke, right? The kid with the goggles. He was a good kid. Flamemon had liked him.

“You couldn’t follow him _anyway._ Even if you insist on bothering me, I have to insist you _leave._ I have a very important meeting coming up.”

“Yeah, well, tell me and then all your problems will be solved won’t it?”

“Honestly just tell him. He has a point.” Takuya pushed the door open. He didn’t really get the whole secret shmecret going on. Things worked out better if you were just straight forward about it. Daisuke slouched backwards in a chair, arms folded over the backrest. He _had_ been glaring at Gennai, but he perked up curiously when Takuya entered. “They’ve gone after Kouji.”

“I’ve figured _that much_ out.”Daisuke grumbled into his crossed arms, “But I don’t know _where._ Gennai wouldn’t tell us where Kouji went.We figured you’d gone with them.”

“I had…business to take care of. As for where…to rescue him. Anubimon lives in the dark world, I assume that’s where they are keeping him.”

Daisuke gave a strangled “ _Rescue!?”_ and nearly knocked his chair over, that was how fast he shot out to his feet. Gennai _really_ hadn’t told them? He knew the man liked his secrets, but _damn._ “How could you send Ken _alone?_ Why not all of us?! We _owe_ Kouji. You just said he _left.”_

“Flamemon!” Gennai put a hand to his face, exasperated, ignoring Daisuke completely, “I’ve spent _three days_ trying to keep that from him! He’ll be _insufferable_ now! Besides—weren’t you supposed to get your human?”

“Already did.” The use of his digimon name hardly fazed him, and the answer was automatic. Then he paused, Frowning. “I—he came and got me. Then I flew back. Geez this is confusing…”

The he counted the time in his head and swore, “Wait— _three days?!_ I don’t blame you Daisuke, I would have resorted to torture by now.”

“I’ve been thinking about it.” The chosen muttered darkly, “And it’s _definitely_ on the table now that I know where Ken is. What were you _thinking?_ Sending Hikari would be the only worse option! _”_

_“I_ counseled against the whole thing!” Gennai grumbled, “And he isn’t alone. Anyamon went with him.”

“Fat lot of good that does. A digimon without a partner, even if Anyamon is scary strong.”

Takuya rolled his eyes, again with the secrets. Kouichi was more than strong enough to keep Ken safe as long as they didn’t plan a headlong attack against LordKnightmon. He didn’t think Kouichi would do that. The kid was smart, and cautious. As angry as he’d been, Takuya didn’t think he’d be as reckless as...well…Takuya would be.

The argument grew more and more heated. Gennai’s open book had been forgotten, and now he was using it to emphasize his point, waving it around in the air. Daisuke wasn’t letting up however.

“Geez! Guys! Stop it already!”

Since when was he the reasonable one?

“Look, Daisuke. _I’m_ going to go after them. You can come with me if you want.” He knew better than to try and stop him. If it’d been _him…_ Takuya would be acting the same way, even if he couldn’t digivolve. Then he turned to Gennai, “I’ll keep an eye on him, if you’ll just point me in the right direction.”

“Is this a bad time?”

The amused voice cut off anything Gennai was going to say, and the older man threw up his hands in defeat, “ _Fine!_ You might as well stay for this then. Just stay _quiet._ ” He then turned toward the voice, which was a gathering splotch of darkness in the shadow of a bookshelf. Three ovals—eyes?—seemed to glow red in the indistinct face. Takuya was immediately reminded uneasily of Duskmon, the three gems in his helmet gleaming despite there being very little natural light in the Dark Continent.

“No, no, it isn’t a bad time. Just…disagreements.”

“It has been ages since I’ve seen you so flustered, Guardian.” The deep voice chuckled, and the digimon stepped out of the shadow. Literally. The shadow remained behind as the digimon strode into the light, the darkness stretching as he moved further from it.

The digimon was humanoid, decked out in black leather and waaay too many belts to count. His skin was grey, and two massive guns were holstered at his sides. It had Takuya looking at them sideways, trying to decide if he’d even be able to lift one of them.

Probably not. Not without digivolving at any rate.

The blue beaked helmet with the third eye smack dab in the center explained the creepy triple eye thing. Takuya wanted to smack himself, of course it wasn’t Duskmon. Just…old fears. Despite everything that happened, Duskmon still showed up in one of his occasional nightmares.

“Well, it has been a trying week.” Gennai rubbed at his temples, before shaking his head, “Regardless, thank you for answering my summons Beelzemon.”

“Hm, I decided to stop in.” The digimon shrugged, “I take it you want to talk about the mess Anubimon is making?”

“Of course. Any information you have would be useful.”

“The Lords are becoming wary. We don’t really care about this side of the rift, , but Anubimon’s new advisor is causing a stir. Barbamon’s quiet about his information, but everyone knows he’s been salivating over the treasures Anubimon suddenly has in his collection. Nine digimentals.” The digimon sent a smirk in Daisuke’s direction, “Pretty little baubles. It puts his paltry one to shame, and everyone knows Kindness is the weakest.”

“There’s a Digimental of _Kindness!?”_ Daisuke choked, ignoring Gennai’s warning glance. Beelzemon just grinned toothily, “Of course, little boy. But good luck separating it from Barbamon’s clutches. It was the prize of his collection until Anubimon’s newest henchmon one-upped him. He also prides himself on manipulating holy digimon, but even _he’s_ never gotten his hands on the Chosen of _Light’s_ digimon. Oh yes.” He hissed, thoroughly amused with the color Daisuke’s face was slowly turning—a lovely purple, “He’s positively _green_ with envy. He’s calling for an immediate attack. Deamon and Lilithmon are on the fence—the so-called forces of evolution do nothing for us, and what do they care for baubles? Leviamon is furious about his tower being destroyed and the Chosen of Light slipping from his clutches—I hear one of his Generals has an…interest in the girl.”

Takuya slapped his hand over Daisuke’s mouth, grabbing the chosen firmly with his other. Daisuke’s rage came out as only a muffled, unintelligible tiraid as he strained to leap at the digimon.

After a moment, Beelzemon decided he’d had enough entertainment, and added one last statement, “And of course, Belphemon sleeps.”

Gennai digested this for a moment, then asked—“And where do you stand?”

“Right where I stand, of course.” Beelzemon smirked cockily, crossing his arms. His tail flicked back and forth, the light reflecting off the interlocking scales, “I have no quarrel with Anubimon, but the forces of evolution…they do not belong in our world. We fight. We kill. We grow. That is how we work. This… _granting_ of power is despicable. I would gladly challenge LordKnightmon for his life, if I didn’t think it would tip the precarious balance we have. It’s been…strange for the last few days now.”

“Strange? How?” Gennai pounced on the detail. Beelzemon grimaced, “There was an explosion of power near Sphinxmon’s Fall. Daemon and Lilithmon might think Anubimon beneath their notice, but they pay attention when it borders their domains. They’ve been combing the area, but Ryuudamon is missing from his home, and Devimon could only laugh when questioned. Cackling about Darkness.” The digimon shrugged, “I think being stuck half in the world of light has addled his brains. He’s been that way since Lucemon kicked the bucket. But if someone was messing with the ancient one…”

There were so many names being tossed around that Takuya had mostly stopped paying attention. Three key details drove through the haze however. Three familiar words.

_Lucemon?!_

“The Dark Whirlpool, of course! That’s where they went!” Gennai didn’t elaborate at Beelzemon’s questioning glance, “If anything else should come up, I would appreciate the news. And I would beg a favor of you.”

“Those come at a cost.” Beelzemon warned, “I bring you information because of our previous agreement, and I like to throw wrenches into the workings of my fellow lords. But anything more…”

“Of course. I’d assume it is the same as usual?”

“No.” Beelzemon interrupted, disgusted, “Qinglongmon always refuses. What I want…what I want…”

“What I want is a _fight._ ” The demon man grinned, “Take away the digimentals. Take away the forces. Take away his pet angel. Even better if you can get that dandy out of Anubimon’s protection. I want his data. Promise me that, and I’ll do your little favor.”

The resulting silence was long. “I will have to think on this.”

“I will give you half an hour. Decide.”

And then he was gone, the shadowy portal in the corner of the room the only sign that he was there.

“Why are you even hesitating?” Takuya ended up asking when Gennai made no move to do anything other than stare thoughtfully at the shadowed corner. “That’s what we plan to do, isn’t it?”

“Mrrphmrrphmrrrprrp!” Daisuke was trying to speak. Takuya had forgotten he’d gagged the boy. He blushed and let the chosen go, scratching his head sheepishly as the other boy gasped for breath, “Sorry about that.”

“Next time…” _gasp “_ just ask…” _wheeze._

“Would it work?”

“Probably not.” Gennai answered the question, shaking his head. He turned away from the rift in his library. “One mustn’t be too eager to bargin with a Lord of Hell. Even if it agrees with your ends.”

“Obviously you have before.” Daisuke coughed, “Why would it be so different now?”

“Our current one is a very old agreement, the price already paid. I’m unsure of what he would do if we failed to deliver on a new one.” Gennai shrugged helplessly, “He’s asking for a lot for the service I would ask. I’m trying to think if there’s another way.”

“What do ya need?” Takuya stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning back against the wall, “If it’ll speed things up, I’ll do it. I just want to find Kouji.”

And Kouichi. Damnit it wasn’t fair to throw everything on him. Not when he could _help._ Damn the secrets. Damn them all.

“Hmmph. If only. I believe Anyamon would be the only one of you who could get away with this one. If they used the Dark Whirlpool then it shouldn’t be open again for a few weeks at least.”

Dark Whirlpool… Gennai had said that earlier.

The guardian shook his head, “We have no choice. The situation is precarious. I’d like to avoid a war in the Dark Area if we can help it, and having Beelzemon on our side would be crucial to that. However, I must ask you, Flamemon, to be subtle. I know you do not have the restrictions placed on you that your friends do, but the denezins of the Dark Area are old. We do not need myths walking again.”

“Myths?” What was he talking about? Takuya knew—well, Flamemon had known—about the safeguards. He knew that the Celestials wanted to keep this world ignorant of the spirits. But Flamemon had already evolved in front of Daisuke. Ken already knew. Heck, even Hikari knew.

He knew this world didn’t have the Ten Legendary Spirits. What other myth was there?

“Sphinxmon’s Fall…” Gennai muttered, “Of all the places they had to go there…”

And why did that sound so damned familiar?

_x-x-x_

_“Remember our deal…”_ Beelzemon’s voice cackled as it drifted away on the wind, swallowed up by the roaring of the demon’s motorcycle as it tore away down the dusty grey road. Daisuke glared after it with contempt—the rider had taken a sadistic pleasure in riling him up and he did _not_ appreciate it. Especially since he’d easily picked up on some sore points earlier—namely LordKnightmon’s pet _angel_ as he put it.

Daisuke forced his fists to unclench, Veemon swaying at his side. He shot a concerned glance at his digimon, he didn’t know Veemon got car-sick. Or motorcycle sick, technically. He hadn’t much cared for the motocycle ride either. Well, at least they were here. Wherever here was. It was grey, dead, rolling hills of black sand under a grey sky. It should have been sweltering heat—Daisuke knew this was supposed to be a desert of sorts—but it was almost…chilly.

Flamemon—Takuya—why was he bothering with the human disguise anyway? They already knew he was a digimon. Arukenimon usually remained in human form unless it was a battle, he supposed, but her digimon form was rather— _ugly—_ clumsy to get around in. “Takuya” was a little taller than Flamemon, but otherwise Flamemon was remarkably humanoid. Whatever the reason, the fire digimon was currently in his human form, one hand stuffed into his pocket, the other shading his eyes—against what? There was no real sun here.

 _“I don’t know where Anyamon and Ken are, but I know Ken was going after the Crest of Kindness. I believe I know where the rift is, I’ll get Beelzemon to drop you off nearby since it is near his domain…If only they’d_ waited. _It would have been so easy…”_

_“_ Nearby my foot,” Daisuke grumbled, doing his best to surpress a shiver even through his jacket. It was so quiet—no sound of wind, nothing other than his own insignificant words and the crunch of Flamemon’s shoes against the sand, “Oi! Where are you going?”

Flamemon paused and glanced back, “To the top of the dune. I assume the reception is better.”

_Reception?_

Daisuke shared a confused look with Veemon, who shrugged, “Beats me.”

And then he stopped, frowning and _really_ studying his partner. Veemon looked…pale. Washed out. He was still unsteady on his feet, Daisuke had assumed it had been from the ride but…”You doing okay, buddy?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” Veemon tossed him a cheeky grin and thumbs up, although it was a bit less…enthusiastic than usual, “This place just feels weird—and what’s that Flamemon doing?”

Daisuke allowed himself to be sidetracked as Veemon scampered up the dune with a little more bounce than was natural. He’d keep an eye on his partner. Veemon hadn’t been looking good the last few days, and this…Dark Area couldn’t be good. Gennai had said it had…side effects.

He’d even tried to get Daisuke to leave Veemon _behind._ Even if Veemon couldn’t digivolve, Daisuke couldn’t do _that_. Veemon was his buddy. His partner. They were in this together.

They just needed to find Ken and then they could get out of here. Then everything would go back to normal.

It wouldn’t.

Daisuke shook his head. Thinking like that would get him nowhere.

Now, if only there was a way to get in contact with Ken…

“Oi! Kouichi, can you hear me? _Oi._ I know it’s been years but—” He’d caught up with Flamemon. The digimon-as-human was standing on the peak of the hill, fiddling with something in his hands. “C’mon. We should be in the same zone—this _should_ work…”

_Kouichi?_

_“_ Oi, Flamemon—what are ya doing?”

Daisuke came up behind the other, trying to see what Flamemon was fiddling with. The other suddenly turned around.

“My _name_ is Takuya.” He rolled his eyes, “If I digivolve, then by all means, call me Flamemon.” He turned back to the device in his hands, finally giving Daisuke a good look at it. It was a _digivice_. Black and red, the same style as the one Kouji used. The screen was filled with that snowy static that old TVs would get in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Or…three years ago, when that unnatural mist settle over the city.

Daisuke knew now that it had been a digimon named Vamdemon responsible for it, but hindsight always saw clearer.

“You said you didn’t _have_ a digivice.” He’d assumed it to be a lie once they found out about Flamemon but now…it was a lie in a different way. Could digimon have digivices? And why was he insisting on going by that name? Arukenimon was Arukenimon regardless of whether she was human or not.

_But she’s not Arukenimon now…is she?_

Daisuke couldn’t help the shudder. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to remember the pulsing green tendrils trapping Angewomon, her body moving like a puppet being jerked along. He didn’t want to remember the spider claws that turned him around and around, half conscious, each revolution constricting his breathing tighter and tighter with webbing. That giant bulbous eye leering down at him as he lost his grip on the waking world.

“Look, I can’t even figure out where to _start_ explaining, but I’m as human as you are,” Takuya was talking. Right. Daisuke had asked him a question. Daisuke shuddered, pulling himself away from the memories. He had a _bone_ to pick with whatever Arukenimon had become. “You’ll probably figure it out anyway, given—”

“H—lo…is—thing—king…?”

Suddenly a crackling voice was coming over the digivice, and Flam—Takuya completely forgot what he’d been trying to explain, immediately fiddling with the buttons. The static-y screen wasn’t as blank as it had been, a weird symbol flickering uncertainly on the black and grey field. It was blue.

“Kouji!? Is that you? _Kouji?”_ The symbol stabilized as Takuya messed with it—finding the right frequency? To Daisuke’s surprise, he recognized the voice that came over the little device as soon as it cleared up.

“N—it’s Ken. Koui—digivolved—carrying Kouji’s D-Sc—nner.”

The static flared, breaking up the transmission, which would lead to Takuya swearing and fiddling with the buttons again.

“ _Ken!?”_ Daisuke pounced, nearly tearing the device from Takuya’s hands. “Are you okay? Where are you? It’s been _three days!_ How could you just _leave_ alone like that!? _”_

_“Daisuke!?”_ A burst of static, but the voice that came over it again was different, “Takuya! Why—bring _them?”_

That…wasn’t Ken. Or Anyamon. Or _anyone_ Daisuke recognized. Although…it itched at him. Familiar…but different. The static might have cut off half the line, but the disapproval was pretty clear.

“Chill out Kouichi. It’s just Daisuke. At least we managed to get away without dragging along the whole group. I couldn’t just _leave_ him there.” Takuya was scratching at his hat under the chastisement, “Besides, it’s not like I’ve even been here before. I figured someone more familiar would be useful—I don’t even know what we are looking for. Where are you guys?”

 _Just Daisuke?_ He fumed. He had every right to come after his friend. He would have been here ages ago _and_ probably found them by now if Gennai had just done this three _days ago_. He was still ticked that the conversation seemed to have been hijacked. That voice _wasn’t_ Ken anymore. It was…

Kouichi. That name again. Who the hell was Kouichi? And why was he with Ken?

“Ryuudamon—s somewh—Lilithmon’s—main. You?”

“A creepy desert. On the edge of Beelzemon’s.”

There were a few moments of silence, before the digivice cackled back to life, “Ryuudamon—find Dorumon. Near—desert—base. Meet you there.”

“Alright.”

“Oh— _bzzt—_ Takuya? D-Sca—track—ike spirits.”

And then the line went dead, the blue symbol fading out, leading the screen blank and inactive. Takuya was looking at it thoughtfully, terribly confused judging by his expression. “Tracking? Damn it—if only the line hadn’t been so _unstable—_ ”

He continued fiddling with the digivice, the small machine making little beeping sounds.

_Tracking…_

_“Damn it Kouji! Turn that thing off!”_

“Tracking!” Daisuke remembered, “Kouji’s D-Scanner could pick up the signal from the Sanctum of Courage!”

He remembered. He remembered! He’d been more fixated on the fact that he _knew_ Kouji’s digivice had changed color, but he _did_ remember that irritating beeping noise in the empty tunnels. Daisuke puffed up his chest, proud of himself for figuring it out. Just in case Takuya didn’t know—because of course _he_ hadn’t been there, and Daisuke had—he added “If we get close enough to the Crest your digivice should start beeping, and this little green doohickey should pop up.”

The digimon-as-human turned around, looking over the rolling hills of sand—how had they ended up that way? There hadn’t been a breath of wind to be felt the entire time they’d been standing here. Everything was empty—quiet. Maybe it was just a calm day…

“How hard can it be?” Takuya grinned suddenly, “At least we should be able to see this base he was talking about—there’s nothing else here. Just wait here for a bit.”

And then Takuya was gone, swallowed up by a swirling light. Daisuke stumbled back, but Veemon reached out, fascinated. His claw sparked as soon as it touched the edge of the cocoon, one that steadily shrank until it was nearly Veemon’s size. He’d seen this once—after the fight with Arachnemon, when the armored warrior had dedigivolved into Flamemon.

Was he digivolving? Flamemon hadn’t been _that_ much shorter than Takuya…not quite as small as this…

And the cocoon burst apart, and Veemon gleefully tried to catch the little particals as they shot in every which way. The digimon rustled his wings, running a small red-scaled claw through the—were those _flaming?—_ feathers.

“…Flamemon?”

“Hiryumon.” Blue eyes stared out at Daisuke from within a white horned mask—it almost seemed Greymon-esque, if not quite so large. The red scaled tail flicked lazily, and then the wings stretched, spreading wide, “I’m going to scout—if it’s _this_ empty, whatever base they were talking about should be obvious. You can either stay here, or follow. But if you lose sight of me— _stop moving._ Got it?”

Mutely Daisuke nodded, and he could only watch wide-eyed as powerful legs propelled the dragon into the air, wings blazing like a small star in the grey sky. A beacon of color and light. But he’d— _Flamemon_! Digimon only had one linear evolution! Did he have some sort of Digimental?

But…Digimon couldn’t use the Digimentals. Not alone.

Digimon also didn’t have digivices.

“ _I’m just as human as you are.”_

After…the Arachnemon fight…he’d rationalized Flamemon as another Arukenimon, or a Mummymon. Digimon with the ability to take human forms.

But…what if they were wrong? A human who could become a digimon. A human who was friends with Kouji and Anyamon…

Two digivices…one blue and black, the other completely black…they were the same model. Now a third, red and black—and they knew Takuya was also a digimon…

“Daisuke—Look at this!” Daisuke lost his train of thought.Veemon was cupping something in his claws, staring down at it in wonderment.

Veemon had managed to catch some of the data bits in his claws. They glowed like tiny stars, color leeching back into Veemon’s hide where they touched. Slowly they faded, but the color lingered.

“They were _warm,_ Daisuke. This place is so cold…”

x-x-x

“I can’t believe _Daisuke_ is here.” Keirmon rolled his eyes, Ken had been muttering about that ever since they’d managed to talk to Takuya. He could believe it, even if he questioned the wisdom of bringing him along. Takuya would never be able to say no. Just like Takuya wouldn’t have been able to stay away knowing Kouji was in trouble.

It was a weird thought knowing that the Takuya he’d just spoken to wasn’t the one that had wished him luck days ago—but at the same time…this was _Takuya._

He understood it better now—especially after Sphinxmon’s Fall.

He shuddered, that thought rousing the bitter anger simmering in the back of his mind. The introduction of the warding stone had allowed him to separate himself from the overall corruption, but it had introduced something worse. Because that something felt as if it _belonged._

Anyamon hadn’t found just _any_ stone.

It was currently a weight around his neck; the black metal had shimmered into place as he’d slept. Keirmon couldn’t have taken it off if he’d wanted to.

_Corrupted Dark Elemental Digimon._

Keirmon’s hands curled into fits, and he could feel the itch that meant his claws were moments from unsheathing. He took a breath. Focusing instead on responding to Ken’s mutterings, “Did you really expect him to stay behind? Takuya will take care of him.”

“No. I suppose I didn’t.” Ken shook his head, “But I figured there would be no _way_ for us to be followed.”

“Takuya would tear his way _through_ the worlds to rescue Kouji—do you expect less of your own best friend?” Kouji had a best friend, and he was here. In truth the others were much, _much_ closer to their goal than Ken or Keirmon were, regardless of the headstart. Who did Kouichi have?

Who would jump to _his_ recue, if he needed it?

_My brother._

Laughter in the dark, warming Kouichi’s sinking heart. The sound of waves.

_I am not alone._

Even Ken waded into his own nightmares to be here.

The answers burned away that creeping doubt, regret, and loneliness. If Keirmon could, he would glare at the ghost of Sphinxmon. He would not be led astray by the corrupted, millennia old data cluster, no matter that it had taken the chance to write itself into Keirmon’s data. The overwhelming presence had faded, but…there were the nagging feelings, twisting and probing their way into the depths of his mind.

“Best friend…? He is the closest to it, I guess.” Ken’s voice was quiet, “Although how I deserve it after…”

Keirmon sighed inwardly—this again. Ken was lucky to have the friends he did. Lucky to have people who would move heaven and hell for him. People who were willing—and indeed who _had—_ forgiven the mistakes of the past.

“After you tried to kill him?” The question just kind of tore itself out of him. It wasn’t accusatory, just…a question. Ken flinched, his head jerking up from where he’d been looking at the ground, “I just…wanted them gone. The Digital World was _mine_. My garden. I tried to stop Kimeramon when he…”

Ken’s gaze was unfocused, lost in the haze of memories. Since they’d left Sphinxmon’s Fall, Ken had seemed much like he’d been in a daze.

“ _I opened a dam.”_ Ken had told him when he asked, haunted eyes heavy as they camped for the night, “ _All the things I wanted to hide from myself…”_

All the while he would rub his neck, and Keirmon could feel the darkness pulsing, slow and steady.

“Obviously,” Keirmon responded, slowly, “He believes you are worth following.”

_Niisan…Please wake up._

_A warm hand in his, an anchor, a lifeline in the darkness. There weren’t any words amidst the beeping of the hospital machines, but the grip is strong._

_Come back, Niisan. I want to know you._

_I tried to kill him, and he still cared to come find me._

“Well, I’ve figured out where we are.” Ryuudamon returned after a while, the furry dragon had gone on ahead while Keirmon, Ken, and Wormmon rested, trying to stomach the bland food they’d brought with them from Ryuudamon’s home. The dragon had refused to stay behind, especially after Sphinxmon’s Fall.

 _“I am old.”_ He had said, “ _I remember Sphinxmon. He was fair, if ruthless, and the world he created was just that, a reflection of the other world—not this den of corruption. I would like to see the end of this story—for the sake of the digimon I once knew.”_

Even if it bothered him that Ryuudamon was following him because he thought he was some sort of _reincarnation_ of Sphinxmon—which if he would admit it, was technically true for his spirits, even if _his_ world’s AncientSphinxmon had different circumstances—the dragon digimon was extremely knowledgable, and knew the layout of the Dark Area. Ken had only ever been on the edge of the forest, and the Ocean. And any knowledge of the other world was next to useless, considering they’d gone through a whirlpool in the middle of the ocean and came out on the edge of a mountain range.

“From what your friend described, they are near our destination. Dorumon has been keeping an eye on the Desert of Despair, he should be able to catch up to them soon enough. Our problem is, at our current pace, it will still take us a week, perhaps more, to get there.”

“Desert of Despair. How cheery.” Ken muttered. Ryuudamon quirked an eyebrow, “This is the Dark Area—I’d say melodrama is required. It is named so because it appears to be neverending, and the chill in the air will invade a traveller’s heart before too long.”

“We can’t afford many days.” Keirmon gave up fighting the itch and dug his claws into the tree he was leaning against, leaving thick, deep grooves in the flaking bark. He both despised and was thankful for the Dark Ring around his arm. He _still_ wanted to just up and leave Ken and Ryuudamon behind, promise or good sense be damned.

But what would be the point? Where would he go? Ryuudamon wouldn’t tell him. Wouldn’t tell him where Anubimon’s Domain was. He didn’t think it was wise.

He had to believe Kouji was okay. He _couldn’t_ dedigivolve. He’d tried. He’d desperately tried when he realized what had happened to Keirmon. It was like the first day all over again, feeling locked in his own skin, keeping his disability quiet until Gennai let the cat out of the bag.

That _had_ to mean Kouji was still alive. They were still connected. He’d grown used to the pressure forcing him into his digimon form as Anyamon, and it was no different now. Where he had once resented it, it was now a sign of hope.

He’d eventually given the digivice to Ken to hold rather than torture himself staying up all night to watch it blink. It was the only clue he had. Kouji would be there. He had to be.

 _Takuya. I need to meet up with Takuya anyway._ He reminded himself forcefully. LordKnightmon had taken all _ten_ of the spirits to take down, and even then Lucemon had been the one to kill him.

“We will _have_ to take the time. We’ve been skirting Lilithmon’s territory as it is. If we were to leave the mountains and head straight across, the chances of running into one of her subjects increases dramatically.” Ryuudamon crossed his arms stubbornly, “She’s insanely covetous of her territory, and would not let us pass unmolested.”

“My brother may not _have_ the time.” Keirmon snarled, and caught himself, taking a deep breath to try and calm the simmering anger. Oh how he wished he could be Anyamon right now. He _knew_ Anyamon after having spent so much time as him. Knew him in a way he didn’t know Keirmon. The beast digimon was calm as a lake in winter—but once someone cracked the ice…

Keirmon on the other hand was a hyped up bundle of emotion, Sphinxmon’s eon old well of anger and pain raking his nerves raw. There wasn’t truly a ghost—Keirmon knew that. The consciousness that had been Sphinxmon was long since gone—but the data contained the echoes of betrayal, shadows of emotion and isolation that was threatening to drive him crazy.

And Sphinxmon was why he was hesitant to slide evolve. He didn’t _know_ if it would latch onto Anyamon too.

_Corrupted Dark Elemental Digimon—_

“The problem is avoiding the domains. I was going to lead us around…through Beelzemon’s. His is sparsely populated, and he generally doesn’t care about those weaker than he…but that is extremely round about. I suppose if we were to try and follow the mountains bordering Lilithmon’s domain…but that would lead us through Belphemon’s Rest, and to avoid it we would have to dip into Anubimon’s, _over_ the mountains…Flying, it would be three days at least…” Ryuudamon was muttering to himself, scratching a rough map into the dirt at his feet with his claw, “Four at most. But it’s useless; it’s an impossible route by foot, honestly. And none of us have wings.”

_None of us have wings…_

Anubimon’s territory...

_None of us have wings._

_Corrupted Dark Elemental Digimon—_

_“_ Ken.” He caught the other’s gaze, shaking him out of another waking nightmare. The chosen blinked owlishly, swaying uncertainly. “I’m going to need your help.”

They needed Shyamon.

And really, in the end, the only thing that mattered was reaching his brother. He knew Anyamon would understand. Did understand. Because they were one in the same.


	29. A Meeting in the Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter begins a couple hours after Takuya and Daisuke's arrival in the Dark Area.

Hiryumon came in for a landing, aiming for a set of grey stones at Daisuke’s side. The chosen had gotten over the intial jumpy-ness after the first few times Hiryumon’s shadow had blocked the weird half-light of the black sun. His claws bit into the stone, catching his forward momentum as he fanned his flaming wings. Daisuke let out a sigh, closing his eyes and enjoying the warm rush of air.

“Damn that always feels good. Just as I start to get used to how cold this place is you show up and ruin everything again.”

“Sorry.” He shrugged, folding his wings against his scaled hide. A quick shift and spiral of code and Flamemon sat on the rock. He was tired of flying, tired of flying and finding nothing. He could return to human…but as Daisuke said, it was cold. Cold and getting colder as the black sun began to sink below the horizon. Flamemon shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature. He didn’t like this world. It reminded him uncomfortably of his adventures, years ago. It wasn’t the Dark Continent…but more like the Venus Rose. More like Lucemon’s prison. It was an itchy, crawling feeling of unease.

He could only _imagine_ how Kouichi was holding up.

Or Kouji.

Damn it, he wanted to just fly away. Fly after Kouji. He could even carry Daisuke if he needed to—Vritramon was strong enough.

 _They are coming here._ Flamemon told himself, trying to hammer it home. Ken was looking for something that would help them. And it’s not like he _knew_ where Kouji was being held.

If he was even still being held. It had been three days already. It was about to be four.

It had taken LordKnightmon about that long to destroy _their_ world…why was he taking so long this time? What was he waiting for?

He didn’t have his D-Scanner in this form, but they’d been able to use the communication in their Spirit Evolution. Later. He’d try later. He’d have to see if Kouichi had any leads when they stopped for the night. And find out how far out they were.

But…not right now.

“Did you find anything?” Daisuke was talking to him. Flamemon shook his head—partially to clear it, partially in response to the question—“Nothing. Everything looks the _same._ You’d think any sort of _base_ would stick out like a sore thumb.”

Sand. Sand. There had been nothing but black sands and black stones as far as his eyes could see. Occasionally there would be stubborn shrubbery clinging to life, especially among the groups of rock clusters he’d found dotted along the way. He fixed the location of the nearest one in his mind, cross-checking it with the position of the black sun. He’d have to lead Daisuke and Veemon that way. They’d need some sort of shelter. If the twilight hours were any indication, a good wind-break and kindling for a fire would be necessary tonight.

Flamemon balanced precariously on the rock before hopping off, his clawed feet sinking into the black sand. Even the sand was cold to the touch. He envied Daisuke his shoes, but at least Flamemon kept most of the ambient cold away thanks to his tail. “S’cold.”

“Tell me about it. _I_ don’t have a built in heater.” Daisuke griped, pausing, and looking behind him, “How’re you holding up buddy?”

Veemon wasn’t looking good. The blue dragon snapped his head up at Daisuke’s question, his eyes struggling to focus as if he was in a daze. He was almost _grey._ The blue in his hide had slowly leeched out over the course of the day, leaving him a pale ghost that stuck stubbornly to Daisuke’s heels. Granted, even Daisuke was looking washed out in this place, and even Flamemon’s fire was less orange and more…almost pastel colors. But Veemon had hardly even any of his normal blue left.

“Huh. Oh. I feel like I can go a couple more rounds. Let me at ‘em.” Swaying on his feet, the dragon jumped into a sloppy battle stance, air punches going wild, “Let me at ‘em.”

“Woah. Easy there.” Daisuke lightly touched Veemon’s shoulder, and the dragon fell over, arms flailing. He ended up sprawled face first in the sand, Daisuke quickly falling to his knees at his side. “Veemon! C’mon buddy, talk to me.”

“’m just cold, Daisuke. Don’t mind me.” The little dragon tried smile reassuringly, but since he was face down in the black sand he only succeeded in inhaling some of the stuff, ending in a coughing fit.

“That’s it. We’re gonna find some shelter.” Flamemon reached, guided by something that was instincts, yet wasn’t. The code from his slide evolution wrapped around him. This one would take more energy… “Fast.”

Even Flamemon hadn’t tried Vritramon yet.

x-x-x

Daisuke grabbed for Veemon as the dragon lurched forward, toward the swirling ball of data that Flamemon had begun. He’d half expected Agunimon since the bundle was steadily growing, but the swirling cocoon continued even beyond that. Doubling in size. Tripling in size.

If the flaming warrior Daisuke had seen fighting the Dokugumon had been Flamemon’s evolution, this one _had_ to be Hiryumon. The armored dragon was enormous, towering over Daisuke’s tiny-by-comparison self. Something chilled the wonder and excitement at seeing this new evolution—a glow, high up in the dragon’s white mask. Glowing eyes had never been a good sign in Daisuke’s book. Never. Ever. Ever.

But the dragon sank into a crouch, bringing that great head down to the sand. That great glowing eye blinked once. Twice. Thrice. And then the glow settled, revealing a clear blue.

“ _That is unsettling…”_ The dragon’s voice was almost like a low rumble of thunder, the sound of a quake, right before the volcano would blow. He turned to Daisuke, extending a three fingered claw, “ _Come. I can fly us there much faster than we can walk.”_

Daisuke hesitated, but Veemon stumbled forward, out of his grip and into the clawed embrace. Daisuke had no choice but to follow. Veemon collapsed on the metal plating, curling into a ball as the claws closed around them, the air suddenly warm and moving as those giant flaming wings spread, a beacon of orange fire in the darknening sky. Daisuke held on to him, amazed as some of the blue crept back. Just like when Veemon had caught some of the fleeing data particles, when the color had lingered for hours.

“It’s _warm…”_ The dragon sighed, curled in Daisuke’s arms, bathing in the power given off by the Warrior of Fire.

x-x-x

“He’s fading.”

The fact of the matter tone cut through the silence as Daisuke worried over Veemon, and Flamemon went about gathering the nearby shrubbery into a kindling pile. A dark shape crouched near the opening to their little hollow, yellow eyes glittering in the light cast by Flamemon’s tail.

Flamemon stepped between Daisuke and the entrance, that same odd instinct summoning a ball of fire to his hand.

“He’s fading.” The digimon repeated, “And nothing you can do will stop it.”

“How did you find us?” Flamemon asked, ignoring the accusatory tone. He’d picked this specific rock formation for a reason.It had been the least open, wind blasted columns crowding around each other to form a little hollow in the middle. It wasn’t quite a cave, the roof was open to the sky, not that the sky could be seen much given there wasn’t a moon or stars to light up the darkening night. It should have blocked most of the light.

“A giant flaming dragon isn’t hard to miss, child of fire.” The sarcastic tone remarked, “If you wish to move unnoticed, I’d suggest avoiding such a method in the future. However, it worked out in the Veemon’s favor. If I hadn’t seen you, he wouldn’t survive the night.”

“You have no right to say that!” Daisuke snapped, holding Veemon’s limp form protectively, “He was doing better! We just have to warm him up!”

“Is _that_ what you think, human?” The digimon laughed bitterly, “That he’s _cold?_ That it’s not the very _world_ attacking him? Two things happen to a Vaccine digimon when they fall into this world. They fade, or they _twist._ And if you care for him, you want neither.”

“You said we can’t do anything to stop it.” Flamemon stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as the firelight moved with him, pushing back the shadows at the edge of the hollow, “You can?”

The digimon was small. Smaller than Veemon. His head was vaguely dragon like, with a thick square snout. The fire reflected off the red gem on his head, nestled into the pale purple fur. A furry dragon? Tiny bat-like wings fluttered in the night breeze, and a white-tipped fox-like tail lashed out against the rock,

The digimon’s yellow eyes watched him warily. Claws shifted. Something was on his paw, A bracelet of braided rope, a red stone. He slipped it off, gripping the item gently in his claws.

And then he tossed it on the ground.

“Put that on him. Keep him warm. Let him sleep.”

The jewel glittered in the firelight. Flamemon knelt and picked up the bracelet. There was something carved on it, glittering gold among the red.

He recognized it.

The symbol for Darkness.

Kouichi’s symbol.

_We don’t need myths walking…_

“Who are you?”

The dragon ruffled his wings, turning away into the darkness with nothing more than a dismissive flick of his tail.

“I’ll be back. Stay here.”

x-x-x

Daisuke hadn’t liked the idea of putting some sort of weird jewelry on his digimon—grumbling something about rings—but in the end, Veemon’s tossing and turning finally won him over. The digimon settled into a peaceful sleep once the red gem settled, nestled tightly against his grey hide. They watched. They waited. There was no moon. No stars. Flamemon could not keep track of the time, but with nothing more to do but watch and worry, they saw color beginning to grow in Veemon’s image once more. He was still desaturated, but at least he was _blue_ again.

When he woke it was to such a relieved reaction that Veemon looked at them funny. Daisuke was all over him, poking, prodding, asking if he was feeling okay. He didn’t remember anything since they got here. Nothing, other than he’d been really cold.

“I’m not any more.” Veemon announced cheerily, “Well, it’s chilly, but—” He’d moved his arm during his talking, causing the firelight to catch on the red stone around his wrist. “What’s this thing?”

“Beats me.” Daisuke shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You really had me worried there buddy.”

“I don’t…like it. It makes me feel…pretty.” The dragon announced, moving his arm this way and that to send the bracelet’s gleaming faces dancing again. Daisuke shrugged, “It _seemed_ to help you earlier. I don’t know if you still need it though.”

Veemon’s claws tugged on the rope, Flamemon looked up from where he’d been tending the fire, “I’d say it’s better to leave it. Better safe than sorry.”

“Indeed. Take it off, and you’ll be right back where you started.” Their visitor was back again, and all three of them turned quickly to find the purple fox-dragon perched on his rock again, “I guess I shouldn’t have expected _sense_ from a human. If you lot were smarter you would’ve just stayed away from here. The Chosen never bothered with the Dark Area before—If Ryuudamon hadn’t warned me to watch out—”

“Hey—we wouldn’t even be _here_ if one of your head honchos hadn’t made off with one of our friends!” Daisuke snapped back, obviously annoyed with the digimon’s attitude, “Believe me, none of us _like_ this place after what it’s done to Hikari or Ken.”

“Unfortunate circumstances. There are those who are drawn to this world. And then there are idiots who stumble in unwelcome and it’s _my job_ to make sure they don’t come to permenant harm!”

“I’ll give you permenant harm—”

“Daisuke!” Flamemon snapped, shooting him a look he’d seen Kouji use a hundred times. He hated this, where was Kouji when he needed him? “Simmer down.”

He hadn’t really expected it to work, but the chosen just made a set of strangled noises and stalked over to the other side of the hollow. Veemon scampered after him, trying to talk him down, arms flailing—the the red stone continuing to flash with each movement. He seemed much more…normal now. More lively.

“Look—thanks for your help.” Those intense yellow eyes focused on Flamemon. He almost felt…uncomfortable with the scrutiny. And Takuya usually _liked_ attention. “You never did give us your name.”

“Dorumon.” The white tipped tail lashed against the rock, “Why are you here?”

Straight and to the point. No beating around the bush for this one. He could respect that.

“Meeting our friends. They took a different method to get here.” Other than that, Flamemon didn’t really know. Daisuke said Ken was looking for something called a Crest. And Gennai was supposed to have them end up near it… What had he said? A rift?

“We’re also looking for something…” He paused as Dorumon’s eyes narrowed, “A…rift of sorts. Something fell in from the other area.”

“ _That.”_ Dorumon’s words were icy, a growl growing in his throat, “A human construction, steadily punching a passage through the worlds. Yes. I know of it.”

Well. That was convenient. “Could you lead us there?”

Dorumon snorted, “Even with _your_ ancient protection, you would not be able to approach unscathed. Only the _human_ could—assuming he has the courage to.”

_Ancient?_

The last line was snarked directly at Daisuke, volume rising to allow the spikey-haired human to hear it. Daisuke’s head snapped up, his smile fading into one of grim determination. Veemon looked between the two uncertainly—he’d been in the middle of telling a story and seemed at a loss to have his audience stolen away.

“I’ll show you Courage. I am the _expert_ on Courage. _No one_ outdoes me when it comes to being courageous!”

A snorted laugh, “Then, come the morning I shall lead you there, little braggart. You _alone._ ”

x-x-x

The desert was no more comfortable as the night grew longer. Even Flamemon was shivering, and the _snow_ hadn’t done that to him. Daisuke and Veemon were huddled together against the chill of the night, around a fire Flamemon had willed into existence some time ago. Kindling was scarce, and what there was barely kept a flame.

The tiny fire they had was a drain on Flamemon’s strength. Something about this place didn’t like fire. Didn’t like warmth. Didn’t like light. It tried to snuff it out.

“That which lurks in the shadows fear the light.” Flamemon stopped his grumbling and glanced up, spotting the yellow eyes glinting on the edge of circle of firelight. Dorumon. The little digimon seemed to like coming and going as he pleased. “And Fire is Light’s stalwart companion.”

“Ya’know, you don’t have to talk in metaphors.” Flamemon just waved him over. “And you might as well come closer to the fire. It’s cold out there.”

“I’m used to it.” Came the sharp response, but Dorumon slowly crept into the circle, the light from the small fire setting the red gem on his forehead glowing with an inner shine. The purple dragon didn’t come next to him, but he settled on the other side.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to deal with it when there’s a fire right here.” Flamemon poked at the fire with a charred stick, shivering as it sucked greedily at his energy to feed itself. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

Dorumon’s eyes narrowed, his tail twitching. He glanced at the pile of Daisuke and Veemon leaning against each other on the other side of the pile, Daisuke snoring away without a care in the world. Flamemon had originaly stayed up hoping to catch Dorumon while Daisuke was sleeping. The two of them just didn’t get along _at all_. The last time Dorumon had visited had dissolved into nothing more than an argument between the two. The fact that it had turned out to be so cold and they _needed_ the fire ended up being a very important afterthought.

“Let me go tomorrow.”

“No.” Dorumon shook his head, preening his small black wings.

“Why not?” Flamemon demanded, the stick cracking under his suddenly clenched fist. That wasn’t good. He forced himself to relax. They didn’t have much kindling as it was.

“You are digimon.” Dorumon’s eyes glittered, watching him. “Fire may not fear the dark, but the darkness fears it. That which corrupts this place already took down one Ancient.”

 _Ancient?_ The word sent chills running down Flamemon’s spine, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature. What had Gennai said?

_The denezins of the Dark Area are old._

“The human’s quest is a foolish one.” Dorumon continued, turning his attention to his fox-like tail. He ran his claws through the fur, removing the black sand that clung to it. “But I have no right to stop him. My oaths are to protect digimon. The power of fire may protect you where the Veemon requires further warding, but I refuse to risk it. Not for some human’s construct that warps the world so dangerously.”

“If that’s the problem…” He took a breath, releasing the fiery presence that was Flamemon. The fire sputtered and died, the temperature plummeting as the last barrier against the night fell, the energy supporting it released with his digimon form. Takuya couldn’t see anything now. There was no moon. No stars. Nothing but blackness.

Dorumon’s gem was the only light, a faint glow outlining the dragon’s muzzle. Those yellow eyes flashed dangerously, a growl building as Dorumon sprang back. “You are _human?”_

“D-duh.” Takuya couldn’t help the stutter, the chill bite in the air making him shiver. It tore through his jacket like it wasn’t even there. He wouldn’t be able to hold this for long. “I-I’m human. Y-you have no r-right to s-stop me. You s-said so.”

The dragon growled, pacing furiously. Takuya gave in and summoned back the fire. It was getting quicker each time, he noticed, the code barely having time to block his vision before it was gone. Flamemon shuddered, sucking in air, and breathing into his chilled hands. A twist of energy and there was flame dancing in his palms, warming numb fingers and throwing light amonst the stones once more.

“The hell’s goin’ on?” Daisuke’s sleepy complaint rang out in the night, “S’mone turn off the heat?”

“Just go back to sleep. I’ve fixed it.” Grumbled complaints, but once Flamemon settled the flickering fire into its place on the charred pile of shrubbery they subsided. Soon Daisuke’s snoring was again filling the air, and Flamemon and Dorumon were once more left at a stand off, glaring at each other.

“I still refuse.” Yellow eyes flashed, “Human or not, that ancient power of yours is not to be risked. It does not belong here.”

“I have every right to decide on the risks _I_ will take.” Flamemon growled back, “And I refuse to let Daisuke head into danger _alone.”_

“Then will you risk the Veemon as well?” Dorumon snapped back. Flamemon froze. “I know of partner digimon. I know the stories. Leave him be, and he will follow. Not even the power from Sphinxmon’s Rune would be able to protect him there. If you thought he was bad _before_ I gave it to him…”

Veemon, more grey than blue, stumbling across the sands, pushing himself to keep up with Daisuke’s longer legs. The ghost of a smile, ever cheerful, but tired, forced. Each step seeming to be more of a burden. But he soldiered on, dogging Daisuke’s heels, even as his partner felt more and more guilty for dragging him along.

“Vaccine digimon _wilt._ Data go insane. Virus are the most resilient, but even they will _warp_ over time _.”_ Dorumon hissed, “Do you want that for him? Even _I_ won’t go near that place, and _I_ have natural resistance. The human will be fine. Most digimon who can survive in this world stay away from the Desert of Despair, and those who can’t…they would never make it that far. The corruption affects _digimon_ , not humans.”

“If you want to be responsible then _wait._ Keep Veemon here. I may not like the human, but I would not lead him to his _death._ If you follow…” Dorumon trailed off, taking his wings roughly and turning away, vanishing into the darkness, his words drifting back even after he was gone, “Then I wash my claws of the consequences.”

_x-x-x_

Maybe he’d been a _little_ hasty… Daisuke stood on the top of the dune, shivering as the chill desert wind cut straight through his jacket. The dune was more of a rim, actually. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, even though he could see that it was more of a basin really. The slope was steep for a few feet, but then curved into a bowl of sand.

A crater. And lying in the center of it…

The image was fuzzy, like an image on the TV in the middle of a thunderstorm. But he recognized the oblong building lying half buried in the sand. That was impossible. Paildramon had blown that thing to smithereens! Daisuke grit his teeth, taking a deep breath and making that first step.

The sand gave way beneath his feet, and Daisuke tumbled and rolled the rest of the way with a strangled yelp. The sand was _freezing._ Weren’t deserts supposed to be hot? He remembered when they tracked down the base in the Digital World—it hadn’t been scorching, but it had definitely been uncomfortably warm. Nothing like this bone chilling cold.

During his tumble, he’d accidently inhaled some of the black sand. He spat it out quickly, gagging at the gritty feeling infesting his mouth. His clothes were covered, and it even stuck uncomfortably to his skin. No matter how much he brushed, he would never get it off. Not without a good soaking.

 _Why am I here again?_ Grumbling, Daisuke shook out what he could, and trudged forward, pausing as the image before him stuttered and fuzzed, winking out of sight for a moment before returning. Damn that Dorumon. He hadn’t even let Takuya come with him.

He wanted Veemon at his side. He wanted his digimon’s pointless chatter. Pointless in that it didn’t pertain to anything relevant. That didn’t mean it wasn’t helpful. It helped calm the nerves. It gave him confidence. It prevented him from overthinking things and working himself up before he even reached the damn base.

Veemon hadn’t stayed quietly. Takuya had been forced to hold on to the dragon as Dorumon led Daisuke away. He could still hear Veemon demanding to be let go. Demanding Daisuke stop. Demanding to be taken with him.

But Veemon’s color was still washed out. Shadows still lingered behind his eyes. Gennai had _warned_ him.

But he didn’t listen. He’d brought Veemon along anyway. He could still _see_ the effects of this world clinging to his digimon.

If this place was worse…

No. He would listen to Dorumon—just this _once._ He wouldn’t risk Veemon further.

He had to do this on his own.

Daisuke mustered his courage and pushed onward. The flickering afterimage of the Digimon Kaiser’s downed base came ever closer. It seemed…strange, somehow. The outline didn’t look quite right. Almost…flipped? It took him some time, some time and frantic searches through his memory to find the right opening, but he did. The image stuttered a few more times, and Daisuke hesitated at the threshold. One moment he’d been staring into a dark tunnel, leading down into the base. Then it fuzzed, showing nothing but undisturbed black sand.

What would happen if it stuttered when he was inside it?

What if it faded out completely?

If he remembered correctly the reactor room was on the lowest level of the base. Far below the level of the black sand.

He steeled himself and took that first step. He wasn’t the type to worry about things like that, was he?

The sound of the wind vanished. Daisuke turned around, expecting to see the black sand stretching out from the opening. But there was nothing. Just unending, impenetrable blackness. That was fine. He’d just…keep going. He wondered why he could see. There were no lights. But everything showed up in varying shades of black, white, and grey. It was so eerie. So quiet. So still.

Step by step he descended into the Digimon Kaiser’s base. He’d done this before—he knew—but back then he’d been filled with adrenalin. Paildramon had been fighting an ultimate, buying them time as they raced through the halls, following Ken’s frantic search for the reactor chamber.

His memory was hazy. His heart filled with dread. He remembered what was at the end of this series of tunnels. But what _way?_ He’d had Ken to lead him last time. He thought that particular door looked vaguely familiar, so he pushed it open—even the scraping of the metal against the floor as he forced it to move was missing. Absent. There was no sound save for his increasingly nervous breathing.

“There’s nothing here.” He told himself forcefully, almost flinching at how his voice echoed among the metal hallways. “Get it together Daisuke! Think! Where was the creepy machine kept?”

He remembered that the halls had looked strange. Not metal. But something else. And. And. Black cables! Black cables ran along the walls, the floor. He immediately looked around, but there were none of the giant almost twisted root-like cables that he was remembering. But…there were small thin ones tied up neatly where the wall met the ceiling, running along the hallway.

“I’m a genius.” Daisuke congratulated himself as he followed the thin bundle down the hall. It would split off into smaller ones, branching off into other rooms, but he needed the _source._ He kept fallowing the thicker bundle, until at last he found its split, where it joined into a cable about the thickness of his arm.

Still not as big as the _massive_ ones he remembered. But it was progress. At least he had a plan. At least he wasn’t wandering aimlessly—

The world fuzzed around him. The walls vanished, and he was being crushed. Sand. Sand from all sides. He couldn’t breathe. His chest couldn’t even move to try and draw in more air—not that there was any to be had. The cold gritty sand was drilling into his skin—spots began to form in his vision—his lungs burning from the _need_ to breathe—

And then he collapsed, the sand holding him up vanishing as the base reappeared around him. Daisuke just lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in a daze, chest heaving as he greedily sucked in the air. He was shaking—that was…that had been _terrifying._ He’d thought the webs were bad—but that…that….

He couldn’t stay here.

And what if it vanished _completely?_ He shuddered, forcing his weak legs to lift him up, swaying. It wouldn’t do that. It only stuttered for a few seconds at most. If he noticed the fuzz, he should be able to grab a large enough gulp of air to get through it. It was just like swimming.

Yeah right. Swimming where the water was packed solid, doing its best to crush him.

He stumbled down the hallway—was this the right way? Daisuke thought so. He wasn’t sure. He was a little disoriented, his head swimming from what he’d just gone through.

A sound echoed in the hallway, and Daisuke froze mid-step.

 _Beep_.

It was coming from his jacket.

He dug a shaking glove into the pocket. His D-3 was there. So was his D-Terminal. But…his searching fingers found one unfamiliar object. He pulled it out.

It was almost like a D-3, but not quite. Where Kouji’s was black and blue, this one was black and red. The screen glowed, the moment it cleared his pocket a green orb popped into existence. It pointed onward, down the hall. Onward and down.

Takuya’s digivice. But when—

_“Make sure you’re careful, okay?” Takuya clapped Daisuke on the shoulder, but he wasn’t paying much attention to the kid. Veemon was clinging to Daisuke’s side, the dragon digimon’s big green eyes pleading for Daisuke not to do this. Daisuke turned uncomfortably away from Veemon’s stare, crossing his hands behind his back. “I told Gennai I’d get you back in one piece.”_

_“Yeah, yeah. This’ll be easy. Jerkmon over there said digimon avoid this place. I’ll be fine.”_

He must have slipped it in during that time! But _why?_ Why would anyone give up their digivice—it wasn’t like he could use it.

The orb blinked.

He didn’t _need_ to use it.

Daisuke kept an eye on the cableing, but otherwise he ran, following the blinking green orb.


	30. The Poison of the Spiderwomon

“ _Sorry Takeru…I know you mean well, but…I just want to be alone, okay?”_

For once it had been just the two of them during lunch. The break from Daisuke’s overt concern was…staggering. It had made Hikari realize just how…smothered she felt. Takeru was much less obvious about it. He still hovered. He still fretted. He still looked like he was worried she would shatter if he touched her.

He’d seemed…hurt when she told him that. But he understood. He always understood. He’d moved to protest, and then it died in his throat as she locked eyes with him. Then he sighed.

_“Just remember—I’m always here if you need me.”_

And then she’d gathered her books and…left. It didn’t take much convincing to get the teacher to give her a pass. She _knew_ she’d been looking terrible for the last few days. Lost. She _felt_ lost. She’d lived eight years before knowing Tailmon. And then three more after their adventures, Tailmon remaining behind in the Digital World with the others, while Hikari returned home.

But as much as she tried to pretend that this was just another absence, like those previous times. As much as she wanted to force each step, one in front of another…

It felt like something had been torn from her.

It left a gaping hole in her heart. One that bled every time she would heft her backpack, feeling the weight of her textbooks alone. One that wept when she went home to have her mother ask where her little kitten friend was—she’d made sure to make an extra fish with dinner for her.

She’d heard Taichi explaining it to her mom as Hikari walked stiffly to her room, after she had left the table so abruptly, appetite non-existant.

“ _Oh honey…”_ Her mother came to her after that, sitting on Hikari’s bed and holding her warmly. Niko—old and lazy as he was—even came to curl up on her lap, sensing her distress. Hikari’s movements were mechanical as she pet the old cat, heart breaking again and again, yet unable to cry.

Tailmon wouldn’t want her to cry.

So she didn’t.

She wandered. Drifting through the halls of the school—not wanting to go home, but not wanting to be near _anyone_ —dodging the teachers she could, and flashing the note at those she couldn’t…

She couldn’t believe it. She refused to believe it.

She was helpless, and there was no one to turn to for help.

A flash of red and Hikari ducked into one of the open doors to avoid it, sliding the door closed as she waited for the person to pass.

A familiar face was framed in the glass for a moment, Miyako’s head turned, her red baret resting on her hair at a somewhat skewed angle. She didn’t see Hikari, off to the side as she was, but she did pause, her eyes hovering on the door. And then she shook her head and moved on.

Only then did Hikari realize where she was. The computer lab was so empty. Silent. Dead. The lights were off, and no digimon came bouncing up to her, greeting her with boundless energy and enthusiasm. Her throat tightened as she instinctively looked toward the upper shelves, expecting to see two shapes crouched in the shadows. One would stretch his wings, wings that should not be able to keep him aloft at all, and he would swoop down at her. She would catch him in her arms.

And then _she_ would follow. Doing a graceful leap from the shelf to the counter, landing lightly on small paws. Her tail would be flicking, her blue eyes waitings expectantly. She wouldn’t jump on her like Patamon did, but she’d be just as happy when Hikari set Patamon down and gathered her up. She’d complain about the antics of the younger digimon. She’d pull herself to Hikari’s shoulder, out of the hug. She was a champion, she would complain to Hikari in private. She wasn’t a child anymore. Not like the others. And while charming in their own way, being stuck all day with the younger digimon got tiring fast. Even Patamon, the oldest of the other digimon, could still be just as immature sometimes—especially with Chibimon egging him on.

But…there was nothing there. The shelves were bare. Of course. Why would the others bring in their digimon? They wouldn’t be going to the digital world. Kouji was gone, Gennai sending him and the Essence into hiding. And with him, went their only hope. Until Gennai could figure out a way to let them digivolve the children were useless. Useless to their digimon, and to the title of Chosen.

And she was the most useless of all.

She could do nothing.

Not now, not then.

Nothing to help Angewomon even as she’d screamed, Parasimon’s tendrils biting into her skin. Angewomon fought it. Hikari knew she had. She yelled at them to run, to leave her even as the spider made her dance, a puppet on glowing green strings.

None of them would.

Parasimon had saved Hikari for last. She’d been bound, forced to watch as the once tiny digimon latched onto Angewomon’s back grew exponentially, feeding on Angewomon’s strength and power. Those now large purple claws then began gathering the children one by one, dragging Angewomon’s weakened body along. The claws began moving, spinning them into webbed bundles. Bait for the one who escaped her trap.

Hikari shuddered, Parasimon’s voice ringing through her memories. How…pleased she had been. How smug.

“ _I warned you children.”_ She’d laughed, _“I warned you I would take away your toy.”_

_“Let her go.”_ Hikari pleaded, whispering the words she’d spoken three days ago. They echoed in the deserted computer lab. _“We don’t have what you want. Just let her_ go.”

_“I’ll be the judge of that, little Hikari.” Arukenimon never used their names. Except Ken’s. She had always seemed to look down on them all, deeming them unimportant and lumping them all under children or chosen. To hear Parasimon use her name…_

_And…the voice saying her name wasn’t Parasimon. Not alone. There was another._

_Angewomon stirred. At first Hikari felt the stirrings of hope. But they died as Parasimon’s bulbous eye closed, the claws hooking into the webs that decorated the room. Those spider claws heaved Angewomon to her feet, steadying the weakened digimon—helping._

_Angewomon’s face contorted. A grimace. A smile. One arm jerked, and then the other. Wings rustled. They got caught on the claws, but somehow the spider’s bulk didn’t seem to restrict their movements at all._

_The tendrils…the ones that had acted as puppet strings. They were digging_ into _the skin. Sinking into exposed skin and fabric alike. Each moment became more and more fluid. Angewomon examined her bare hand, a green marking spiraling up her arm the only indication there had been anything binding her. They didn’t completely blend, only those near the edge of her arms, where they would restrict movement._

_“Why would I let her go?” It was Angewomon talking now. Angewomon’s voice. Angewomon’s lips forming the words. She turned her helmeted head toward Hikari, smiling, “I rather like this body. I think I will keep it.”_

Hikari shuddered, hand going to her wrist. The mark was gone. It was just memories.

_Parasimon may have been the one who had stung her, pumping the venom into her system. But she’d still been aware that it had been Angewomon who watched as Parasimon’s claws spun the web, a satisfied smile on her face. It had been Angewomon who’d leaned forward, Angewomon’s voice whispering in her ear._

_“She’s crying. Aren’t you going to help her?”_

_“Maybe if you had the light, she_ might _be able to throw me off.”_

_“But you are useless, aren’t you?”_

_“Maybe if you were strong enough.”_

“ _Dear little Hikari…”_

_The words were whispered, sounding further and further away as Hikari lost consciousness._

_“Do not fret, I will take_ good _care of her.”_

She sunk to the floor, knees pulled to her chest, hands cradling her head. She stayed there, against the wall in the computer room long passed the end of school bell. Her D-Scanner beeped. Her phone rang.

She ignored it all.

The door opened.

An arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“We’ll find out what happened.” The words were soft. “I promise.”

She knew what happened. She could feel it, a wound in her heart that would never heal.

“Tailmon is gone.” Rough. Voice trembling as she struggled to keep herself under control as she admitted that which she’d refused to accept.

A few days wouldn’t make it any better. Weeks. Months. Years. Nothing would make it better.

“Patamon came back.”

Hikari’s head snapped up, tears she refused to let fall brimming in her eyes. It made her vision swim, Takeru’s solemn blue eyes locked on hers.

“They always come back.” Takeru murmured, surprising Hikari by drawing her closer. Her hands shot out as she tipped sideways, fingers digging into the fabric of Takeru’s shirt as she settled against his side. He was warm. He was real. This was _now._ “Believe in her, Hikari. Don’t lose hope now.”

Her eyes were hurting. She closed them, furiously blinking away the tears. Her fists clenched. Her throat so tight she felt she could barely breathe. The warmth surrounded her, and she couldn’t see or hear anything else.

“It’s okay…you can cry.”

And…she broke.


	31. In the Shadow of the Valley

“Miyako. You told me not to let you scratch it.” Poromon pleaded with her, turning those large watery blue eyes up at her.

“I know, I _know…”_ Miyako sighed, forcing her hand away from the bandages. She didn’t know why she bothered to keep it wrapped up. There was no real wound anymore, just some dark bruises that wouldn’t go away. But it _itched._ She grabbed a pencil instead, chewing on the end of her eraser as she tried to focus on the math problems that were due tomorrow. She tried…but she just couldn’t _focus._ She hadn’t been able to focus for days. She was so tired.

At least with the winter holidays approaching, she’d get a break from school for a while. Unfortunately, some of her classes were with teachers who believed that education took no vacations, and would probably assign her work _anyway_.

Still. Some time away from school would be good. Away from the others. It was hard passing Hikari in the hallways at school. Ever since they’d had their adventure in the Dark World, and Sylphimon had evolved for the first time, she’d felt like they had a connection of sorts. And it…hurt to see her like this. A pale ghost of herself, drifting from class to class. At least she had Takeru. She never saw her without him, nowadays.

Miyako didn’t have classes with those three, and the computer room was empty after school. Even Professor Fujiyama had come to her, wondering if something had happened to the computer club—she was the president after all.

 _Just a break, Professor._ She’d told him, _Everyone is busy with exams and the upcoming holidays._

And he believed her. Why wouldn’t he? She looked stressed enough.

“What’s wrong?” Poromon squwaked as she suddenly picked him up from where he’d been preening on the desk, his little wings buzzing for a moment with confusion. She just held him, the tip of his feather tickling her nose.

She…didn’t want to go back.

_Murderers!_

Her own words made her flinch as they echoed through her mind.

If she hadn’t driven them away…

Maybe…it would have been different. Maybe Tailmon wouldn’t have…

But then, Arukenimon would have still evolved. Instead of Angewomon, they might have been facing Anyamon…or Flamedramon.

_Or Shurimon._

She shuddered as she remembered her nightmares. The nightmares that dogged her every sleeping moment. The nightmares that made her curl up in bed, shaking, but unwilling to sleep.

She felt dizzy. The world was swaying. She tightened her hold on Poromon, leading the small digimon to cry out that it was too tight. But she didn’t hear it.

She couldn’t talk to anyone. Hikari had her own problems. Both Daisuke and Takeru were focused on her. And she didn’t feel comfortable going to Ken. Normally she would go to Iori. They lived so close afterall, and he was such a quiet boy. Patient and willing to listen as the words spilled out of her. He would always have some insightful comment or observation to impart after it all—one that just made everything make _sense…_

But she couldn’t.

Iori’s mother wouldn’t let him go to school, much less hang out with her. Not after she’d brought him back only half aware, the lingering effects of Ang—Arukenimon’s poison still churning in his system. They hadn’t drugged him, but his mother didn’t believe that.

She’d even asked if he could come visit, or if she could visit him, their apartments were only a floor apart, but she’d been told not to call back any time soon.

Iori was one of her oldest friends. She would _never_ hurt him.

The world swam, and Miyako hardly noticed it as the floor rushed up to meet her.

x-x-x

Poromon struggled free of his partner’s hold. What happened? He didn’t know. One moment she’d been doing work, the next holding him so tight he could hardly breathe, tiny drops of moisture falling onto his head…

And then…and then…she’d fallen. She’d fallen, and now she wasn’t getting up.

“Miyako?” He fluttered nervously. Any moment she’d get up. Any moment now and she’d laugh and rub her head, joking about how much of a clutz she was. And moment now she’d grope for the glasses that had tumbled from her face, nearly blind as a bat without them.

Any moment now…

“Miyako?” He nudged her with his beak. She didn’t stir.

Something red was trickling down the side of her face, where her head had hit her desk on the way down. He’d seen it before. It had come out of her finger, when she’d cut herself instead of the wires as she’d been fiddling with an old radio.

 _“This?_ ” She’d asked in response to his question, rooting through her desk drawers for a bandage. She showed it to him, and he’d watched, fascinated as the red liquid welled into tiny droplets, threatening with every second to trickle down her finger, “ _It’s called blood. It’s a human thing. It means we are hurt. This little bit is nothing to worry about, though.”_

But this time it didn’t disappear behind a bandaid. It stood out even in amongst her hair, bright and red.

“ _It means we are hurt.”_

Miyako was hurt.

She wasn’t moving.

Poromon didn’t know what to do.

He was vaguely aware of the door to the apartment clicking; her parents finished closing up the convenience store. Her mother would walk passed Miyako’s closed door, to her room. To change. Her dad would start dinner. They wouldn’t think to check on Miyako until dinner was done.

Miyako wasn’t moving.

He could hear her mother moving down the hall.

 _“You mustn’t let them see you!”_ Miyako had always been adamant about that. “ _If they don’t think you are a stuffed animal they will take you away!”_

He didn’t want to be taken away. He didn’t want to leave Miyako. His partner.

But his partner was hurt.

Sometimes…you just had to sacrifice secrets in order to help someone. Just as Lowemon had done.

His wings buzzed furiously as he flew at the door, throwing his small body against the wooden door, yelling as loud as he could, “Heeeeeeelp!”

Again and again. He couldn’t open it, not with it pressed securely in its frame. He didn’t have hands.

His wings hurt, his face bruised. The door was his enemy. It was stopping him from getting help. He had to defeat it.

“Miyako! What’s wrong—”

The door flung open just as Poromon went to ram it again. He ended up tumbling in the air, smashing into Miyako’s surprised mother. He caught himself, fluttering frantically in a circle around her, “Miyako’s hurt! Miyako’s hurt!”

“What are you—” Any surprise and fear at his appearance was thrown out the moment she looked beyond him, to see her daughter sprawled on the floor, bleeding from the head. She gave Poromon a quick, heavy glance, taking a deep breath to compose herself, “We are going to need to talk later.” He drooped, but nodded. Then she whirled around, yelling down the hall, “Honey! Call the ambulance!”

x-x-x

Iori stood on the balcony, looking down at the street. He still felt weak. His mother hadn’t let him go to school. Honestly, he was getting bored. He couldn’t go visit Miyako—he couldn’t even practice his kendo with his Grandfather. He’d just been stuck in his room, with comics and homework that his mother would bring him—stopping by the school on her way home from work.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t appease her. He was fine, honestly. He just wanted to go back to school. But he knew how protective she was. He just had to wait it out, as boring and frustrating as it was.

At least he had Upamon. Not that Upamon wasn’t as bored as he was. Reading some of the comics to the digimon helped a bit. Iori had read them long ago, but Upamon was interested.

Upamon was out with him on the balcony now, balancing on the metal railing. There was an ambulance sitting out front of the apartment building—it had been the sirens that had drawn Iori away from his comics. The flashing lights whirled in the night, turning Upamon red momentarily with each pass.

Sirens were something decently common, living in such a dense city. But it wasn’t every day one stopped here, at his building.

“Hey!” Upamon was leaning really far over the edge; so far Iori had to tell him to be careful, “Isn’t that Poromon?”

Suddenly, Iori found himself emulating his digimon, small hands pushing him up so he could peer over the edge, eyes straining to pierce the night. Upamon’s sight was better, but even Iori managed to pick out the small pink ball being held in the arms of an older woman, who was standing around uncomfortably as the paramedics loaded the gurney into the ambulance.

That was Miyako’s mom! If Poromon was there…

He whirled around, snatching Upamon from the railing. He ran to the door, ignoring his shortness of breath. It didn’t matter. His shoes were right where he’d left them in the entry way, and he slipped them on.

“Where do you think you are going?”

His mom stood in the hall, her disapproving gaze damning. He flinched as she crossed her arms.

“Miyako’s hurt.” He explained, hoping she would let him go. The response was just the opposite, her eyes narrowing, becoming more stubborn. Why? His mom _liked_ Miyako. She _liked_ that Iori was hanging out with such a social person, considering he was so quiet and serious.

“I’m sure she will be fine. Go back to your room.”

He bit his lip, hesitating.

And then he turned.

“Don’t you dare leave!”

He said nothing, the door slamming behind him. He ran, almost tripping on untied laces. Miyako’s mother was with the ambulance—it had been pulling away when he’d left the balcony. Her father or siblings may still be home. He could find out what happened, and where he needed to go.

x-x-x

Shiori paced back and forth. Waiting. Waiting. The ball of…something warm in her arms. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d brought her daughter’s…stuffed animal along. A stuffed animal that had been flying, had beat himself up to get her attention, feathers displaced and bent after smashing into the door.

A…stuffed animal that had _told_ her what happened, so she could relay it to the paramedics.

A stuffed animal that her daughter never went anywhere without.

A stuffed animal that felt so alive. That looked just as worried and afraid as she had as the paramedics had carefully checked Miyako over, before carefully transporting her down to the ambulance. Now here they were, waiting.

The door slammed opened.

“Uh, I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms. Inoue, but he claims to be a friend of your daughter…?” A nurse hovered worriedly over the shoulder of a small boy. Shiori managed a weak smile, “It’s fine, come on in, Iori.”

The nurse shrugged, leaving the boy puffing in the doorway. He was pale, shaking, clutching a small yellow…stuffed animal in his own arms. This one had feathered ears, of sorts, rather than wings. She waved him toward the plastic chairs, “You look like _you_ are about to collapse. Did you run all the way here?”

He shook his head, but he breathing was still coming in harsh gasps. She kept a careful eye on the yellow thing in his arms. He was stiff, nothing more than a stuffed animal. But now that she was looking…she could see the eyes move slightly, flickering between her daughters’s pink one and her face.

“Is… _huff…_ Miyako okay?” the boy refused to sit, not until Shiori freed up one of her hands and nearly pushed the boy into one of those chairs.

“Just breathe, Iori. Miyako wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself on her account.” The boy shut up and did what he was told. Closing his eyes, in and out. In and out. It was obviously a well practiced exercise. She knew he practiced kendo—he could have picked a meditation from it.

“Miyako fainted, and hit her head on her desk.” His breathing hitched, small body flinching, but she just sat down next to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “They said she should be fine…but she needs a couple stitches. That’s what they are doing now.”

“…why did she faint?” Iori hugged the yellow thing. Like this, it really did look like nothing more than a little boy’s toy.

And…Shiori couldn’t explain it. She didn’t know. She wouldn’t have even known her _own daughter_ was knocked out on the floor if it weren’t for…

“She hasn’t been sleeping…” The tiny whisper drifted up from her arms, drawing three sets of startled looks toward the little pink ball.

“Poromon!” The yellow thing hissed, causing Iori to automatically clamp his hand over the thing’s mouth. He then glanced up at Shiori, surprised that she _wasn’t._ “You…know?”

“I didn’t know his name, but yes.” The pink thing—Poromon?—shifted sheepishly. They’d been able to talk a little while waiting for the paramedics, but neither of them had been up for much more other than ‘What are you to my daughter?’ Friend. Partner. Confidant. Gaurdian…

And Shiori could do nothing but believe it. Since the beginning of the school year, Miyako wouldn’t ever be seen without her little stuffed animal. She had wondered about it, thinking her daughter was a little old for such tendencies, but work always kept her tired and busy, and she never really asked.

They talked quietly as they waited, Poromon, Iori, and—Upamon?—explaining a little about the little creatures known as digimon. Some of what they spoke of nagged at her, as if recalling a dream she could barely remember. Three years ago, when the fog rolled in off the bay…

“Ms. Inoue?”

Poromon and Upamon immediately stiffened when the doctor came into the room. His grave face froze her heart. He seemed to realize this, and attempted to reassure her with a smile.

“Your daughter is fine. The stitches are settling, and once she wakes up, she should be good to check out. I’d suggest keeping an eye on her tonight, and the nurse will provide you with information on concussions and warning signs. However…there is something strange we noticed. Are you aware that your daughter has a bandage on her left arm?”

Shiori frowned, shaking her head. Miyako _had_ been wearing nothing but long sleeves for a while now…but as the seasons changed it was getting colder, so it was only natural.“No. Is she okay?”

After a moment’s thought, he nodded slowly. “The nurse noticed it as she was being checked over—we suspected perhaps a prior injury and a fall like that could potentially open up already healing wounds. First off, the cloth was tied too tight, and may be adversely affecting the circulation in her arm. I recommend you speak to her about this, poor circulation can lead to more servere problems down the line.”

“Of course. Anything else?” There had to be something else. She’d expected a nurse to be the one to give her all this information.

“I had…hoped you would have an idea as to what caused the injury. It is very strange. It appears to be bite marks, but there are no signs of the skin being broken. They aren’t bruises however…”

She turned her attention to Iori once the doctor left, to Poromon. Neither of them would meet her eyes. Only Upamon seemed oblivious, looking between them in confusion.

“Was Miyako hurt before this?”

Poromon shuddered, and Iori was silent. She knew he wouldn’t lie, but his omission was answer enough.


	32. On the Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mummymon's Sorrow

“She loves me,”

A white petal drifted to the floor of the ramshackle cabin. Light filtered in through the partially curtained windows, the grey sky overcast, and threatening to snow. Lovely little flakes.

“She loves me not.”

Or it could rain. Be a boring, dreary rain. Falling down, just like the petal he’d plucked from this exquisite flower. White, drifting down to the ground—beautiful, just like her hair.

“Stop being such a sentimental twit.” The line sounded almost as if it was one _she_ would say. Oh, Arukenimon. Pumpkin. The petals stripped, the yellowed center of the flower fell from his limp hands, and he curled over himself, hunched in the corner. He almost felt as if he were so dark and gloomy that there were mushrooms growing on his coat. Perhaps even a ghost or two floating under his own personal rain cloud. He treasured the imagining for a few moments, indulging in the idea that the water gathering in the corner of his eye wasn’t tears, but was in fact the result of freak localized weather phenomenon.

“Mummymon! You always were the useless one.” Even the disgusted tone reminded him of her…

But it wasn’t. She was gone. She’d gone and left him. He could taste salt. Did she miss him? Did she think of him? He’d been with her as long as he could remember…always trailing after her like a kicked puppy. But he was her puppy, and he would give anything for her. Her beautiful hair. Her lovely eyes. Even in her human form, her mere image was a balm to his lonely soul. And her spider form…her true form…such _exquisite_ beauty…

He sighed, lost in memories of the good old times. Especially the time, the _one_ time he’d been able to sweep her off her feet, rescue her from those nasty Chosen Children. How could they treat his delicate flower so?

Was she doing all right without him? Of course she would. That was one of the things he loved about her.

“Pumpkin! I miss yooou!” He hugged his knees, drawing nonsensical symbols on the ground with his gloved hand.

“Pull yourself together.” _That_ wasn’t his pumpkin’s voice. Mummymon sniffled, wiping the snot on the sleeve of his blue coat. The bleary image stood before him, dressed not in Arukenimon’s red dress, but the purple grey of the man he only knew as Master.

The Human.

Right. He _had_ been called here. That was the only reason for him to be in the human world, and not out there looking for his sweet pumpkin.

The lanky haired human shot Mummymon a glare, but even as he felt a shiver of inexplicable fear run up his spine, he was too depressed to care. The thought of his beloved just sent him spiraling down again.

“Do you believe she would want to see you like this?”

No. No she wouldn’t. She would glare at him, just like that. She would smack him upside the head. She would call him an idiot. She had been all about the plan.

And then…she left.

She left him. And the plan.

“There’s no point.” He sniffled, “Arukenimon was always better at manipulating the towers. I _can’t_ do it.”

“Forget about _the plan_. All we need to do is open the gate.” The human chuckled, “Even in her defection, she furthers my ends, like the wonderful servant she is. The world-wide weakening would have been more ideal—spreading out the chosen’s forces…but this…”

Mummymon couldn’t help his heart sinking as The Human turned his head to the window, looking out over the trees, to the outline of buildings in the distance. As much as he wanted to just leave everything behind, to leave and join his pumpkin…wherever she may be…

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would obey this human.

He didn’t know why. Didn’t know how. Even as he wiped his eye, and sniffled his nose, as The Human turned to face him, his drooping eyes fixated on him with a small, frozen smile.

“Mummymon.” Oikawa’s voice was almost…pleasant. “I want you to make the arrangements. Prepare those Dark Spires Arukenimon so thoughtfully gathered for us; the Chosen Children are in no state to oppose us. We have too good of an opportunity right now—move up the time-table.”

He turned back to the window, reaching out, “I will finally achieve my dream…I will finally return to the digital world.”

What was so important about the digital world, when he couldn’t have Arukenimon by his side?

She hadn’t even said goodbye.

He picked himself up off the wooden floor, settling in for the long trudge back into the city. His talented pumpkin had been able to pass freely between the worlds. He would have to take the long way.

x-x-x

“What are we doing here, TK?” Patamon’s voice shattered his focus. Takeru shook his head, looking away from his target for a moment, and just taking in his surroundings. Why…why were they here? This was miles from where he lived now. At least a good hour on the train. And he’d walked. His feet ached. He’d walked.

Everything was familiar, in that fuzzy, can’t-really-remember-but-you-just- _knew_ way. Patamon was wrigging out of his backpack, a quick glance at the deserted overpass around them granting the digimon a chance to stretch his wings. He hovered for a moment, before settling in Takeru’s waiting arms.

“This place looks familiar…”

“It is.” Takeru agreed, looking out over the edge of the overpass. Even three years later, there was construction work going on. Mammothmon had torn up that street during his rampage. Takeru vaguely remembered that, his eyes tracing the route the crazed digimon had taken while looking for the eighth child. He had been young then. Details were fuzzy when it came to their first adventure. He would never forget it. He would never forget the friends they’d made and lost along the way. He would never forget the lessons they’d learned…

But a child’s memory only preserved so much. Yamato wouldn’t need the sign to know the name of this place.

_Highton View Terrace._

He knew this place. It was where it all began, all that time ago. It was here that a digimon first set foot in the Human World. Where eight children had borne witness to the fight, only to be marked and called when the digital world needed them.

The question was—and his gaze narrowed onto the tall figure making his slow, but steady way across the lot—why was _Mummymon_ in Highton View Terrace?

He’d almost missed the tall, gangly, grey skinned digimon as Takeru had stepped off the train. Only Patamon’s sudden squirming in the bag had stopped him from just walking on by. A hissed, “ _There’s a digimon!”_ drawing his attention to the crowd around him.

And then _he’d_ been there. Tall and gangly, shrouded in that concealing blue jacket and hat. Takeru might have passed it off as a conincidence if he hadn’t looked closer. Looked closer and seen the single yellow eye gleaming out of the shadows beneath the hat.

He didn’t ask _how_ he was in the real world. Ken had told everyone how Arukenimon had broken into his home to delete the data on his computer. It would make sense that Mummymon could do the same.

No. The question wasn’t how. It was _why?_

And with Arukenimon’s role in…the incident, Takeru couldn’t just let it slide. Especially not with how Hikari’s broken expression flashed through his mind when he thought of Mummymon’s partner.

He couldn’t let him get away. Not when he might have answers.

And after all the time spent trailing, Takeru found himself standing on the overpass, looking down on the open courtyard between the apartment complexes. Once upon a time he and his brother had been on the balcony of one of those buildings, looking down where Mummymon now stood. Looking down upon the battle between two alien creatures, which would later be labled a bombing.

Mummymon seemed to be in his own little world, swaying with the wind in the center of the courtyard. One gangly arm went wide, and then the other, as if he were beakoning something. Welcoming it.

Then he took a step.

The world rippled.

And he was gone. Leaving behind nothing but memories.

But the question haunted Takeru as he waited, waited as the sun slowly sank behind the buildings, and he was forced to turn his feet towards home.

Why had Mummymon come _here_? To the one place they knew had a link to the digital world?

What was he planning? And could they stop him, if it came down to it?


	33. A Long Road to Nowhere

ParaAngewomon ended up wandering. She’d found herself prone to doing so lately—with most of the pieces in place she’d found herself without much work to do. Anubimon was handling the search for the digivice, sending his hounds from the ends of the Digital World to another. She knew it _had_ to have been there—she’d seen Anyamon evolve. A chosen could not willingly evolve their digimon without their digivice.

Shyamon must have taken it. He’d been gone when Anubimon returned to her lair. They must have hidden it somewhere. Hik—the chosen of light would know how important the Essence of Light was. LordKnightmon was growing frustrated.

 _We_ must _lure the children out._ ParaAngewomon thought. She knew exactly how. A black and white gloved hand lightly touched her cheek, pretty lips curling into a smile. They would come running should she reveal herself. But no. Not yet.

Her lord said not yet. Not until she was complete.

She looked down at her glove in contempt. White still lingered on two of her fingers, the index and middle missing the sharp purple claw the others sported. She didn’t know why she had to wait. She’d almost completely shaped this body to her liking, sacrificing much of her beloved spider form to do so. It wasn’t practical. Not for for one who could fly, a skill ParaAngewomon quite enjoyed.

She understood her lord’s reasoning, of course. The closer she became to complete, the more horrified the chosen would be. Psychological warfare was a wonderful tactic. It was too bad Mummymon had never been smart enough to understand.

Hmph. She didn’t miss the dolt in the slightest. He was probably still running around at the beck and call of that _human._ LordKnightmon had freed her from the babysitting duties—given her _power_ , given her a _purpose._

She did _not_ wonder what the idiot was doing right now, as she wandered Anubimon’s fortress, waiting for her new lord to give her an assignment. She did _not_ wonder how The Plan would work with her defection. Mummymon was so incompetent he wouldn’t be able to do what their Master required.

 _He’s nothing but another human now._ She told herself, _It has nothing to do with me._

Of course she’d told LordKnightmon what the human planned to do. He hadn’t cared.

_“What does it matter to me if a single human enters the digital world? There are plenty running around as is.”_

She couldn’t make him understand why she worried about the Human. Why she had obeyed him for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t explain it herself. But LordKnightmon was soon to rule the Dark Area, maybe he had a right to be so dismissive.

In an effort to prove that she did not indeed care about her past companion, ParaAngewomon paused, studying the dimly lit hallway. She knew where she was. The dungeon. Why on earth had she gone here? Anubimon didn’t bother keeping prisoners, so the cells were empty. There wasn’t even anyone she could heckle to make her feel better and pass the time.

…except for one. The human was still here. LordKnightmon had grown tired of playing with the human after it was quickly proved that the effort it took to keep the human in one piece wasn’t worth the amusement it brought him. He was now sequestered in the upper halls—she desperately wanted to see what was in that hall. That was where he kept the _Essences,_ she was sure of it.

But…not even Anubimon was welcome uninvited, and it was _his_ fortress.

Maybe…She could taunt the human. Look in on him, see how pitiful he was.

It would remind that tiny part of her host that remained just what the situation was. And it would serve as an amusing diversion.

Yes. Yes. She would do that.

ParaAngewomon counted cells as she walked—the human had been stored in the deepest part of the block they could find. Irony, as LordKnightmon put it—at last stopping at the one at the furthest end, on the lowest level. It was a barred metal door—only LordKnightmon carried the key—the spaces between them no larger than her arm. She could see within, her eyes easily piercing the dark, especially with the faint light thrown by the white patches that remained on her wings. She folded them, no need to cast more light than she needed. That was one thing she was looking forward to be rid of—it was hard to sneak up on and trap prey when her wings acted like a nightlight.

The light she didn’t manage to be rid of somehow alerted the human within. The splotch of body shuddered, uncurling just the slightest bit—how had he known? She knew the human—Kouji—was blind. She raised her wings, brightening the room just enough to see the glitter of the human’s black eyes. Eyes Angewomon knew should have been blue.

He seemed…different from what her memories were telling her. She couldn’t place it at first. It wasn’t just the signs of neglect or abuse—she’d expected it. There were bruises turning ugly greens and purples along his face, and one side was swollen. His clothes were torn—although honestly the wound in his shoulder where Anubimon had held him was much improved, even if the rest of the jacket was torn to shreds. Humans were such nasty creatures. A digimon would have healed by now, especially given a decent meal. She might have to see if she could get something sent down—LordKnightmon was neglecting his pet, and for some reason he seemed to think he needed the human around. She didn’t want to deal with her lord’s anger should the boy up and die.

Honestly the only thing that wasn’t filthy and torn was the scarf around his neck—scarf? She’d brought him in with Anubimon. He wasn’t supposed to have a scarf. It was long, grey with purple stripes that draped around his shoulders and pooled on the dirty stone floor. It half hid his face, pale grey hair blending in with the fabric, showing up starkly against the purple stripes and the blue bandana.

_Grey?_

_Angewomon caught the boy as the evolution failed, floating lazily in the air above the lighthouse. The cocoon of code faded away, the warrior of light now nothing more than a human child cradled in her arms. He seemed so much smaller now—Beowolfmon had been a force of_ power _. Stronger even than her, a mega digimon?—so much power hidden within such a small fragile package. He was hardly older than Hikari._

_There was a scarf wrapped around the boy’s shoulders. A scarf she recognized from his previous evolution—Wolfmon. How was it here?_

_It faded slowly, breaking apart into bits of data as she slowly descended, returning to Hikari and the tower from the site of their lofty battle. The boy stirred, grey hair slowly darkening, returning to its normal black._

_Those eyes cracked open, a black so unnaturally deep it seemed to drink in her light. A weak smile crossed his face, “Thanks…Tailmon… You saved me…again…”_

_There was something behind the human’s voice. Behind his face. A presence, so familiar, tickling her with recognition. She said nothing as the boy succumbed to exhaustion, said nothing as Hikari rushed to her side._

_The voice that thanked her sounded like the human’s. But it reminded unexplicably of the voice she’d heard under a shaking bush, barking at her to leave him alone. A soft whine, begging for someone to make the world right again._

_“You saved me…again…”_

_“The smells…”_

_Akemon. Somehow this boy was Akemon._

_She knew it._

_She didn’t know how, but she did._

“What have…you done…to her…?”

The words were nearly unintelligible between the swollen jaw and the bruises, but ParaAngewomon heard them clearly. They stabbed her, a wound poisoned by the pain in the other’s voice. Her host. Her host was reacting. No. This was _her_ body. Angewomon wasn’t _even_ a host anymore. _She_ was the parasite infesting ParaAngewomon’s body. _She_ was nothing more than a few packets of data—a ghost just like her little wizard friend, doomed forever to watch the world move on around her.

 _You’ve lost, Angewomon._ She cackled, _This body will never be yours again._

_And soon. Soon…even your memories and your very_ thoughts _will belong to me._

Oh yes, she understood LordKnightmon’s call for patience. If a memory like that had popped up in a battle, she might very well have been brought down.

“Oh, what have I done?” She’d come here to taunt, so taunt she _would._ Her host’s memories did not affect her. They did not pain her. This boy was _nothing_ to her save an amusement, a pawn LordKnightmon needed and nothing more. “Don’t you like it? I think it’s an improvement.”

She stretched her claws, the purple exoskeleton moving where it joined with her wings. She didn’t want to think about how that was possible—this body was _hers_. She hooked them into the holes on the cell door—all eight of them—wings spread wide behind her. “She’s all torn up inside, you know. Getting worn down, little by little. I think I will be able to snuff her out when I have the girl. Imagine how she’ll scream as I tear her human to pieces with these beauties.”

One thing she did like about the whole nightlight thing was that she could always admire how her lovely exoskeleton shone in the light. It was soo captivating…Perhaps once the chosen were taken care of she’d take this fallen angel just a little farther. Just a little. Something truly beautiful—and _monsterous._

But for now…just enough to be comfortable. Just enough to tear the hearts out of each and every one of them. She would never underestimate the power of psychological warfare.

She’d leaned forward, almost against the bars. He was weak, injured. Broken. She didn’t expect the corner to be empty, a surprisingly strong hand to be at her throat, dragging her helmet into the bars with a resounding clang.

“Just hold on, Tailmon.” That infuriating voice told her, but it wasn’t talking _to_ her. “We’ll fix this, you’ll see. We promise.”

_Like hell you will._

She was an ultimate, with the strength of a mega. He was just an insignificant human. “ _Heaven’s Charm!”_

The sickly light knocked the boy into a wall with a satisfying crunch. Unfortunetly, the cell door took most of the blow, screeching and groaning as the metal warped and twisted. But this fortress had once belonged to Lucemon, who _had_ used these dungeons quite often. It did not break. It would not break.

“I will enjoy crushing your hopes, just as easily as I crushed hers.” ParaAngewomon sneered, rather satisfied with the painful gasps and wheezes from the body as it crumpled to its place on the ground again. Honestly, she didn’t care too much for this boy. This new chosen. He was not one of the thorns in her side—the little emperor or the goggled brat would have been far more satisfying to have at her feet—but this boy was making her host _squirm_ in a way she’d not expected.

 _What is he to you, my pet?_ She wondered as she tossed out a few more biting words before departing. Perhaps using Heaven’s Charm on a human was overkill, but he’d _dared_ grab her. How had he done so? Where had that strength come from?

_As the digivolution faded…_

_Akemon_.

Her memories insisted that the _child_ was Akemon. Even now. But the child did not have his digivice.

A human who could _become_ a digimon was down right blasphemous. But one who _was_ a digimon…? She would have to see if she could speak to LordKnightmon.

But first…she probably should send down Aruraumon to make sure he wasn’t permenantly damaged. And perhaps a little bit of food. As much as it would please her to see him dead, that was for LordKnightmon to decide.

x-x-x

_“Sorry…I think I over did it.”_

Everything hurt. But when _hadn’t_ things hurt? It seemed like he’d become used to the pain over the last few days. Slowly, carefully, Kouji picked himself up off the stone floor, being careful not to jar anything. He was lucky nothing important had been broken. He was already a mess as it was.

 _Perhaps just a tad._ Kouji responded humourlessly, easing his body down into their usual spot. He shivered as the warmth from Shadow’s scarf faded—he’d grown to rely on that warmth, especially with the ruined state of his jacket. But it only manifested when Shadow was in the forefront, and Shadow…

_“I’ll be…back out…in a minute.”_

_Don’t rush. That attack took a lot out of you. What possessed you to antagonize her like that?_

Shadow had been the one to decide that they needed to conserve their energy as much as they could, on the off chance they would accumulate enough to digivolve. Digivolving would heal most of their injuries, and perhaps give them an edge they needed to get out.

_“Her light…is almost gone.”_

Yes. Kouji had seen that. What had once seemed like a dark, choking cloud had nearly completely swallowed what remained of Angewomon’s light. He had barely even known she was there, only the faint glimmer of her Holy Ring registering to Shadow’s light sensitive senses.

 _“Tailmon is still there!”_ Shadow snarled, and Kouji was surprised to see him throwing another reflection, pacing back and forth with an ease of movement that was impossible for Kouji’s true body to achieve. Shadow’s scarf fluttered in the air as he furiously pivoted and stood infront of the cell door, staring out after the digimon who’d just left. He shouldn’t have the energy for that.

 _How do you know?_ How did he know it wasn’t just the holy ring? That there was no true light left?

“ _We are connected. We_ healed _her. We gave her a part of our power. I say_ we _, because it was_ your _worry for her that let us do it.”_

Yes…yes he did worry for her. She was…different. She had put the world back together for him when Akemon’s senses were driving him mad. Tailmon and Hikari had been patient with him, even as he’d sulked and snapped; only wanting to find his brother and get _away_ from everything. She felt _safe._ Hikari hadn’t made fun of his handicap, hadn’t allowed him to push her away. Instead she’d trusted him, even as he couldn’t see.

They’d gone through the Trial together. _Fought_ LordKnightmon and _lived._

He _owed_ them.

 _“No you don’t.”_ Shadow snorted, glancing over his shoulder, _“This isn’t about a debt.”_

No. Perhaps it wasn’t.

x-x-x

They’d been flying for hours. The sharp spine of the mountains stretched out below them, grey wasteland on one side, shadowed forests on the other.

“Belphemon’s Waste.” Ryuudamon had said, the furry dragon clinging to Ken’s waist, “On the edge of Lilithmon’s territory. Every thousand years it becomes a lush forest. And every thousand years he burns it down.”

He didn’t like this world. So grey. So tainted. Everything twisted and warped by digimon the world of light had rejected. Speaking of warped…Ken gripped Shyamon’s neck tightly, trying not to think about the dark ring remained clamped on Shyamon’s upper foreleg, his amber eyes now deep red as wingbeats rhythmically carried them further west. In some ways they were lucky—the dark ring would lock Shyamon into his evolution, bypassing the usual time limit on a digivolution. He’d kept Agumon evolved for _days…_

When they’d first started—how many hours ago? Shyamon refused to stop, just kept going. Ken wondered if it was the dark ring pushing him forward, or his own single-minded determination.

 _I have no right to do this._ The guilt coiled in his gut, _It’s the ring. I need to take it off. I have no right to order him around. To make him my_ slave.

But every time he brought it up, Keirmon refused.

 _“_ I _don’t trust my own judgement right now.” Keirmon confided after he’d regained consciousness, back in Sphinxmon’s Fall. “This place…messes with my head. It’s better that you_ can _stop me.”_

_I don’t want to hurt you._

_I don’t want to abandon you._

_But I can’t promise I won’t._

And so the ring remained a constant reminder of his sins. Of his guilt. It weighed on his consciousness. Just as heavy as the metal band stuffed into his pack. The D-3 in his jacket. Everything he touched became corrupted. Even that which should purify it. For all of Keirmon’s issues, _his_ warding stone remained that same pure deep red. Ken’s was black.

“At this rate, we should reach the end of the range by morning.” Ryuudamon was the only one who was willing to break the silence. He was watching the moving land below with a keen eye, “We will have to detour around Belphemon’s Rest, and that will put us on Anubimon’s side of the mountains for a time…but hopefully we won’t run into any patrols.”

“Why would there be patrols?” Ken found himself asking, they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any other digimon since Devimon. It was empty. Dead. Grey stone and grey trees and grey sky. “There hasn’t been anything else.”

“We’ve been sticking to the wild lands—the unclaimed. The domains are different.” Ryuudamon’s voice was muffled by the wind, but Ken could still hear it, “Normally they don’t bother with border control—the Lords of Hell have lived with each other for so long they dislike change. But Anubimon…he’s always been different. Given his recent activities, I’d rather not assume safety.”

Ryuudamon pointed it out as they approached a giant ring of rubble and crushed stone. A huge mound lay in the center, sides heaving up and down, up and down. Peaceful snores resounded through the air, faint, but potent even so far away. Ken found himself yawning—he hadn’t been sleeping well. It would be nice to just take a nap…

“You musn’t!” Ryuudamon hissed, and a sharp pain jolted Ken back to his senses. Shyamon had changed course, the giant mound was receeding. The stone ring was positioned at the base of the mountains, and they had to cut deep into the forested lands on the other side before the snoring faded. “Belphemon’s sleep is that of Eternal Slumber—lost forever in the world of dreams. _That_ is why we must detour. Those who hear his snores yearn to join him.”

Ken shook his head, trying to clear it of the siren’s song of sleep. Shyamon’s head was nodding, even as the flight ate up the miles below them. The sky was dimming; the indistinct black disk that this world called a ‘sun’ was sinking into the horizon ahead of them, lost amid the darknening sky. How much time had he lost?

“How are you holding up?” Ken leaned forward, touching Shyamon’s ear gently. It flicked, and the lion shook his head, glancing back blearily as if he just woke from a trance. “We can stop and rest if you want”

“No…” Ken could feel the rumbling sigh, the wingbeats losing the mechanical rhythmic gate to something slightly irregular and more natural. “I can keep going. I have to.”

At this rate, Shyamon would be too exhausted to make the return trip. Ken frowned, putting his hand onto the lion’s shoulder armor. The temptation of sleep still buzzed in his mind, and he hadn’t been the one flying for nearly eight hours “Look, let’s land for a couple hours. The trees provide decent cover, and we’d be more difficult to spot if we finish the rest of the flight by nightfall.

“I can keep going.” But the protest was a weak one, Shyamon’s flight already dipping and aiming for the heavily forested cover below. Ryuudamon “Hmm”ed behind Ken’s back, “This isn’t wise, but you do have a point about night. He would be near invisible even to those with exceptional night vision.”

“And if we _were_ attacked, I would rather be rested than running on fumes and will.” Ken had to stifle a yawn as Shyamon slipped through the canopy, the heavy woods blocking what remained of the ‘sunlight’. The darkness was almost comforting after the mocking half-light. Shyamon’s landing was rocky, tripping over his own paws and nearly upsetting the passengers on his back. The large lion stumbled, collapsing into the loamy earth the moment they’d all gotten onto solid ground.

There was no light, but somehow Ken could still make out the shapes of his companions in the gloom. Perhaps he was merely growing used to this place. A world built entirely upon the concept of darkness wasn’t likely to have the same concept of light, either. Take the sunlight for example—it was the light from a black sun, bringing no warmth, no comfort. It merely highlighted the landscape, bringing out the contrast between shades of grey.

Ken awkwardly patted Shyamon’s shoulder and placed Wormmon on the ground. The little digimon had slept nearly the entire trip, and had been shaken up by the landing. He then looked back to Shyamon, whose wings were lying limp, one half stuck under the lion’s bulk. That didn’t look comfortable. “Don’t you want to de-digivolve?”

“No.” The answer came along with a quiet groan—well, quiet for a large cat that was twice Ken’s size—as Shyamon rolled over, freeing the trapped wing and settling them against his back. The feathers vanished like clouds on a breeze, the red and black armor clicking into place and settling. “If I do, I doubt I’d be able to digivolve again.”

 _That_ tired. So tired that even a couple hours of sleep wouldn’t be enough. Of course he would be tired. Their digimon _never_ stayed armor-digivolved, much less at the champion level for more than half an hour, an hour tops. They’d been flying since morning. Shyamon hadn’t complained at all.

Ken shook his head. At least taking care of Shyamon was keeping his mind off where they were. When they’d just been walking…no, he didn’t want to think back to that.

“I’ll see if we can find something edible, just try and get some sleep.” He phrased it that specific way, changing his tone to one that booked no argument. The runes on the ring flared, and faded as the digimon’s head drooped to the ground, eyes drifting shut. It would take some time before Shyamon truly drifted off to sleep, but this was a start.

As Keirmon had said, the dark ring allowed Ken to control his body, but not his mind. It was _easy_ for him to get the body to rest. Mental exhaustion was something different.

But it was something.

He sighed, hating abusing the situation like that. But…even as he berated himself for the necessity, he realized that he didn’t really regret it. Shyamon needed rest. He…didn’t regret it.

His neck hurt. Ken shook his head, rubbing absently at it. It never _didn’t_ hurt now…he’d grown so used to it that he only noticed it when there was a particularly sharp flair of pain. He turned away from the unconscious digimon, finding Ryuudamon digging through his pack and Wormmon just watching him carefully.

“I know I have it _somewhere…”_ Ryuudamon was muttering, the rustle of objects the only sound in the darkness. At last he fished out a small contraption—the lantern he’d brought to Sphinxmon’s Fall. It stuttered as he tried to light it, the oppressive darkness choking the fledgling shine before it could get going.

At last a roaring fire was blazing within the confines of the device, the woods surrounding them flaring into a stark contrast of shadow and light. Indignant squawks, and trees shuddered as their occupants fled, retreating shadows searching for the safety of the edge of the light. Ryuudamon watched a particularly large one leave, “The light should keep most of them at bay—these woods are hardly ever touched by daylight, much less fire. But be wary—we are no longer in the wild lands. Wait here, I might be able to find some roots of sorts.”

The dragon ambled off, the leaves rustling with his passing.

Ken sighed, he’d been sitting for so long he needed to pace. To stretch his cramped muscles. In a way he was envious of Shyamon—if he could order _himself_ asleep he’d do so in a heartbeat.

“Hey…Ken…” Wormmon was watching him as he moved, Ken stopped, taking the opportunity to drop to the ground into some practiced stretches. He hadn’t played soccer for a few months, but the movements were well practiced and muscle memory took over. It felt good to just move and not think. “What is it?”

“Well…I was thinking…” Wormmon crawled past the light, his shadow growing large against the lit ground. It wavered, dancing like an apparition. “Could you put that ring on me too?”

… _what?_

Ken just stared at his digimon, dumbfounded. But Wormmon was deadly serious.

In the end he could only ask, “… _why?”_

The insect digimon glanced away, using his front claws to sketch in the loamy earth. Just nonsensical patterns, but the movement seemed to give Wormmon courage. “Shyamon can digivolve with a ring. Maybe I—”

Ken shook his head, “Shyamon can digivolve because his power is self contained, it wouldn’t wo—“

But…Kouichi said spirit evolution was different. Shyamon was _normal_ evolution. _Our style of evolution._

Kouji had had the Essence of Light—the only force not yet locked away. Except now it was, in a sense, locked in a digivice no one could use since its owner was captured. But Ken hadn’t had anything like that. Just his dark digivice. That drew power from this dark world.

There wasn’t a Sanctum of Kindness—was there? There wasn’t a Digimental. Just a Crest.

He hadn’t _tried._

Upon learning none of the others could digivolve, he hadn’t even _tried._ Of course it would be the same for him and Wormmon. When Daisuke had given him the Digimental he’d assumed it was the only way.

But…His digivice was different…wasn’t it? It was from _this_ world. Not the other. This world where the cycle was broken, and the Sanctums held no power.

He needed an interface. Kouichi’s D-Scanner had worked. The Dark Ring had worked.

He had a Dark Ring sitting in his bag.

 _What am I THINKING? This is_ Wormmon.He shook his head furiously. “No.”

“But Ken—”

“NO! I’m not going to put a ring on you!” _Ever._

Wormmon had been with him through the entire Digimon Kaiser period. He’d followed him faithfully, obeyed him unquestioningly—all through the loyalty he felt for Ken rather than the blind forced obedience of glowing red eyes and dark metal. Wormmon had _never_ been touched by a dark ring. Ken wasn’t going to sully that now. At least Kouichi was human. He could throw off the mental commands. Sometimes Ken could trick himself into thinking the ring didn’t exist. If he watched what he said…

_Didn’t you just abuse it? Forcing him to rest? ‘For his own good?’ He would have kept going, and you know it._

“I’m sorry, Ken…” Wormmon’s voice was quiet, with a tone Ken recognized, but couldn’t quite pin down. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Hurt. It was the same way Wormmon would respond when the Digimon Kaiser snapped or yelled at him, but he covered it up, kept it bottled inside. For Ken’s sake.

Ken didn’t deserve him.

He’d stayed away from the Digital World to avoid the Digimon Kaiser. But now—Y _ou’ll never be rid of me—_ it just kept coming back, stronger than ever.

 _You are_ nothing _without me._

“I’m sorry Wormmon…” Ken gently gathered the dejected digimon into his arms, hugging him tightly, “I’m sorry. You just want to help but…I _can’t—won’t.”_

Wormmon leaned against him, eyes closed, just taking comfort in the embrace. In that Ken still loved him. “I know, Ken. I know.”

At least this was _one_ thing he refused to give up. No matter what the memories threw at him. No matter the taint of this dark world that would slowly drive him back down that path—he was almost certain. He knew Wormmon’s worth. His partnership. His love.

“I’m just afraid, Wormmon…” Ken confided quietly, “I don’t want to walk down that road again, but I feel it opening up before me.”

Opening wide, a long dreary road full of blacks and greys. Of dark power and darker thoughts.

Everything he’d done so far had been necessary.

Without Kouichi’s D-Scanner, there had been no other way to stabilize the evolution. Without the dark ring…Ken didn’t want to know what would have happened. Would it have stabilized on its own eventually? When Kouichi’s body could no longer support the energy required? What damage would that have caused? And would it have been worth risking?

Without the dark ring, Keirmon would have run straight to Anubimon without the warding powers of the stone; the Dark Area’s corruption gnawing at him from the inside. Without the dark ring they’d still be walking, forced to go all the way around Anubimon’s territory rather than follow the mountains. Without the dark ring…

Would necessary stay _just necessary?_ When would it change to convenience?

Shyamon trusted him. Trusted him to stop him.

_But how could he trust me? When I don’t even trust myself?_

Who would stop _him?_ If he needed it?

“Whatever road you take, Ken, I want to walk with you.”

Wormmon was never judgemental. Ken didn’t deserve him.

x-x-x


	34. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first section takes place directly after the last section with Daisuke, a few days before the last chapter.

When the beeping stopped Daisuke worried he’d taken a wrong turn. Then he realized he _recognized_ this place. Large cables ran along the walls, the size of his head or larger, plowing through the odd grey stone/metal/something Daisuke wasn’t even going to hazard a guess. They looked more like veins than roots now, seeming to pulse in the grey-scale world. It was a large cavern, and it was the thing at the center that Daisuke remembered better than anything. The world was fuzzing around him, flicking between sand and the base, but Daisuke ignored it. It had been doing that since he’d gotten down to this lowest level. Whatever was causing the instability was down here. But it was also what was keeping this echo here. It wouldn’t break. Not so close.

He stowed the digivice in his jacket pocket with the others, eyes fixated on that grotesque machine in the center. He’d seen it _destroyed._ Paildramon had burst through _that_ wall right there, Desperado Blasting the creepy demon head into smithereens. But here…here it still gaped toward the ceiling, bright white sticky light leaking from its eye, from its mouth. It pooled around the base of the reactor, a defensive moat surrounding the twisted machine.

This…this wasn’t where Ken had placed the crest. This was the source. Why did the digivice lead him here? Damn it, he’d have to back track a few levels to where the crest’s pedestal was. Why had he trusted the digivice?

He moved to turn away, but then stopped. There was something…different…about this place. He almost felt…drawn forward. Something was reflecting in the iridescent light seeping from the twisted maw. Daisuke picked his away around the edge of the pool, only to freeze, coming face to face with _himself._

No. Not himself. The image mimicked him as he took a step back. He scratched his head, so did the image.

_A…mirror._

_A dark mirror._

The base had looked strange.

This whole place was a reflection.

A mirror inside a reflection? This place was _weird_ even for the Digital World.

The liquid light seeped down around it, framing the dark glass. Something was carved into the reactor above the mirror. It was the same black material as the rest, but the sticky light followed its curves, highlighting each line.

He knew that symbol.

_The Crest._

Daisuke carefully pulled out Takuya’s digivice again. His reflection did the same. The glowing green orb pointed directly toward the mirror.

A mirror that was surrounded by no less than four feet of that weird unnerving sticky light. Daisuke gulped. That had been the stuff that began to spill from the reactor when it was about to blow. Common sense told him that it was probably a bad idea to touch the stuff. It looked radioactive at least.

_Assuming he has the courage to._

Dorumon’s sarcastic words came back to him, and Daisuke tightened his grip on the device.

He wasn’t Ken. This wasn’t _his_ crest.

But Ken wasn’t here, and Daisuke was.

His digimental had accepted Ken. He could only hope Ken’s crest would accept him.

_x-x-x_

_“Well…You are not the one I forsaw meeting.”_

Daisuke cracked an eye open. Gone was that terrible place, fuzzing and vanishing with every laboring step. Gone was the bone-chilling cold of the sticky light that he’d been wading through, dragging him down; it had been as if he had been pushing through syrup. If syrup had been nearly solid. And he’d begun to doubt it was light at all.

And then his probing hand had touched glass and…

Well. Here he was.

Wherever here was.

It was a white void, the ground oddly shiny in the ethereal light. No, it wasn’t shiny. _Reflective._ If he looked down he saw his own reflection, hanging upside down in some alternate world.

A mirror.

He was standing on a giant mirror, trapped in this world of white with nothing other than that voice. And where was that voice coming from anyway?

“Oi! Anyone there?” Daisuke’s shout was swallowed up by the void, and he shivered. A liquid sheen still covered his pants and lower jacket—that weird sticky light clinging to him. No. Not light. It was cooling, stiffening. Almost solid.

Shiny. It looked almost metallic against his jacket now that the glow had died.

Had he been sucked inside the mirror? _That_ had never happened before, but he wouldn’t put it past the digital world to pull a stunt like this. Things just kept getting crazier—other worlds and elements and demon lords.

“ _Oh the innocence of youth…”_ That same voice again, fondly reminiscing. Daisuke flinched—he hadn’t said anything out loud. “ _Knowledge can be such a burden—I occasionally miss ignorance.”_

“ _Here is the world of the spirit—here words echo thoughts echo dreams.”_ The voice informed him curtly, _“But I suppose it would be rude to conceal myself from you,_ after you’ve come all this way.”

Halfway through the sentence, the words stopped echoing in his head, and began echoing in his ears. A mirror faded into view in front of him, the size and ornate gold rim reminded him of the mirror he’d found on the reactor. The one that he’d touched. The one that had brought him here. It was floating off the ground, a green cloak fluttering around it—a robe? With the clothes it was vaguely humanoid—glowing yellow eyes peering out from the darkness between a white scarf, green hat, and purple fabric. The strangest thing—other than the fact that the billowing sleeves were _empty_ , and the main body was a floating mirror of course—was the set of scales extending from the hat, a small sun and moon balanced on each one.

Daisuke was torn. It looked utterly _ridiculous._ But…at the same time regal. Wise. He decided _not_ to make any remarks on the silly looking nature, but wait, hadn’t he just said thoughts were essentially words…?

“Yes, young one. And it would be better if you stopped following that train of thought.” At least the digimon sounded amused rather than insulted. That was a relief. “It was a dangerous road, and this is a meeting I hadn’t expected.”

“Yeah, well, I hadn’t expected to be sucked into a giant mirror, either.” At least this place was stable, and he no longer felt the crushing weight of sand every few minutes, “Where is this place, anyway? It doesn’t feel like that creepy monochrome world.”

And while it _was_ chilly, it was more the stark cold of touching a metal railing in winter rather than the creeping, seeping chill of a desert that should _not_ have been cold.

“You are no longer in the Dark Area, correct.” The digimon crossed his arms, tucking invisible hands into voluminous green sleeves. Glowing yellow eyes watched him unblinking—they were…beginning to creep him out. No! Not creep him out. Unnerve him. Yes. Unnerve.

Damn it, remembering to police his thoughts was going to be a nightmare. The digimon—“Call me Wisetmon.”— _okay_ , Wisetmon, began to move, a slow circle with Daisuke in the middle. Daisuke turned with him, keeping the mirror in sight. It felt so strange to see the reflection of himself in the digimon’s reflective body. He looked pretty bad—what wasn’t covered by the silvery-white not-light was nearly caked with sand. Subonciously he scrubbed at his face, revealing irritated red skin where the black sand fell away.

“Only my chosen should have been able to escape to this world, the world of dreams. The world of spirits.” Wisetmon continued his study, the words coming slowly, “You are not he; and although you have been claimed by power, it is not mine.”

**_His_ ** _Chosen? The Mirror had the Crest of Kindness on it._

_“_ You mean Ken?” But…what did Kindness have to do with mirrors?

“Why are you here?”

Why? For the Crest. But…why? Why _him?_ Why hadn’t he just waited for Ken? It was _his_ crest, not Daisuke’s. He should be the one here.

_“I’ll show you courage. I am the expert on courage. No one outdoes me when it comes to being courageous!”_

His own words echoed back to him. No. That hadn’t been it. Yes Dorumon’s words had pissed him off. Yes he’d snapped back, accepting the job without thinking…

But he’d had a whole night to think on it, huddled together with Veemon and Flamemon around the fire. He _could_ have said no. Veemon had wanted him to say no. _Takuya_ had wanted him to say no. They could have waited. Takuya had used his weirdo digivice to contact Ken again, finding out that they were only a couple days out.

Dorumon’s taunting had been part of it…But… He wanted to do _something_. He wanted Ken to show up only to find Daisuke had already found it. He’d wanted to present the crest with his apology. He’d dragged Ken out to that battle, and then proceeded to belittle him without thought, dredging up terrible memories

 _Ken didn’t even come to me for help._ He’d just…left.

And that was what hurt the most. Ken hadn’t asked him to help. Hadn’t even _said_ anything.

“…I see…”

“Damn it those are _my_ memories!” He snapped at Wisetmon, yanking his thoughts back and glaring at the mirror hanging in the center of the green cloak. Images flashed across it—no longer his bedraggled reflection. He caught images of Veemon and Takuya, the meeting with Dorumon, but then it went back. Back to finding Ken missing, back to Arukenimon, back to the fight with Arachnemon.

To the Digimental of Friendship.

Before Daisuke realized it he was moving, his fist swinging at the shiny surface of the mirror. The image of him and Ken vanished, and he stumbled forward through the air—through the mirror, through the fluttering green cloak. He shivered as he passed through the digimon— _through_. It was like he wasn’t actually even there!

He caught his balance, sliding a little on the slick, polished surface of the mirrored floor. Great. Just great. He was stuck in this wacky world of dreams or whatever with a ghostly digimon who didn’t know the meaning of _privacy_ and was currently rifling through _his brain._ “What the hell are you doing!?”

“You come seeking my power, child.” The green cloak hung in the air, and then swung slowly, the reflective face of the mirror turning to encompass Daisuke’s image again. He looked so small…lost in the large space. Lost. Lost and dirty. “I feel knowledge of you is a small price to pay for my consideration, is it not?.”

So it was like the trials? Like the Trials of Courage? Was this the Trial of Kindness? What the hell does this have to do with Kindness? A willingness to share?

_Kindness? Is that what they call it now?_

The words were ringing in his head. Daisuke sank to his knees, hands clutching at his temple. Even as he closed his eyes, he could see those yellow eyes boring into him.

_I am the Element of Steel, child. Of Self-reflection. Of Questioning. Of Accepting even the things we regret._

_My power may have been tied to a virtue, but that virtue does not change what I am at the core._

_Now…show me, favored of Greymon. Show me the bond you have with my Chosen. Show me your thoughts, your dreams, your_ fears.

 _Show me_ why _I should accept_ you.

x-x-x

“You are…positive of this?”

ParaAngewomon nodded. He’d called her to the audience hall. It amused him how it made her puff up with self-importance—most of the digimon in the keep believed that Anubimon was still in charge, _she_ was one of the few LordKnightmon would speak plainly with. Anything to keep Parasimon happy. For the moment. “My host…my memories confirm that he was in a similar state directly after the evolution.”

“The spirits were stored in the device—I remember.” LordKnightmon lounged on the highbacked chair on the dias, one gauntlet-ed hand tapping against his beaked helmet thoughfully, “If he had them, they would show up when I scanned his code.”

ParaAngewomon shrugged. Of course. _He_ had the most experience with the spirits. He hadn’t bothered to explain them, other than in vague terms that they were somewhat like the pesky digimentals, but for humans. It wasn’t like it mattered much. If the other warriors were here, he would have heard about it by now. They were far too headstrong and reckless to lay low while he had one of their number rotting in his dungeon. He still didn’t know _why_ the Celestials had only sent Light, if they were to send anything after him at all.

That infuriating boy. First he’d stolen the Essence of Light from him, and then didn’t have the decency to have it _on_ him when captured. Honestly, it had almost tempted him to just abandon his schemes and kill the boy.

But no—the potential power was too great. Besides—so long as the boy was bound to the spirits, no one else could use them. The last thing he needed was to make them available to this world’s chosen. The girl would definitely be able to use them, and losing Angewomon might even tip her over the edge into a rather interesting berserker.

And entertaining as the thought was, it would be an unnecessary risk in exchange for a few moments of satisfaction. If he was to rule this world as he wanted, in everlasting peace and order, then he had to think of more than just himself.

He let out a mental sigh. Being Lord was such a _burden_ at times, but he was up to the task. Such is sacrifice.

“I may have to take a closer look at his data, to see if there is something I may have missed.” LordKnightmon said at length. He hated even _entertaining_ the idea that he’d been wrong, but…ParaAngewomon had mentioned an Akemon. That Angewomon had originally met him as Akemon—a small wolf digimon. The Legends of the Warriors never mentioned such a digimon. It was not any of the evolutions he’d seen before. If the Warrior had some sort of evolution beyond the spirits… “You may feed him, but keep him hungry. If you are right, I’d rather not risk an evolution.”

Not that anything short of a mega digimon would be getting out of that cell, but…He _had_ learned not to underestimate the Legendary Warriors. And of the six human children he had met, Light and Fire were the most dangerous.

Even with that handicap. He would never admit it to the brat, but LordKnightmon hadn’t even realized that the Warrior was unable to see, back at the Tower of Light. He’d been fighting defensively of course, but…

“Is there anything else?” The fallen angel was still hovering. He’d figured out early on that Parasimon—then Arukenimon— _needed_ a master, and for the most part he didn’t mind indulging her. She was useful. Powerful. And she was far more useful as his servant then she’d even been following that human’s orders. But at times it was irritating.

“Just…I don’t think—”

The hall doors were pushed open. LordKnightmon cut ParaAngewomon off with a wave of his hand. The intruder stopped on the threshold; it was one of Anubimon’s servants. A lanky dog-type with plenty of silver spikes and wicked claws—Dobermon, if LordKnightmon remembered correctly—searched the hall with his eyes, searching for his master.

“Anubimon is out on business.” LordKnightmon declared, drawing the digimon’s attention to him. “He has left me in charge for the time being.”

The statement, along with his current “position” as Anubimon’s advisor, put the Dobermon at ease. It loped up the hall, coming to rest at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dias.

The lie was one long practiced. Anubimon didn’t care for the command, having come into his lordship more by accident than anything else. But…LordKnightmon wanted the surprise. With the Essences in his posession, he would first take this Dark Area, and then turn all its power on the Sovereign of the Digital World. If they thought he was subservient to Anubimon—a power they knew…

Well. It would make things significantly easier for him. He had practice playing the crony.

“News from the northern border, sir.” Dobermon’s blood red gaze gleamed from a black furred face. The lanky dog sat at attention, back ramrod straight. LordKnightmon did love how well trained Anubimon’s servants were. “The Devidramon we have watching Belphemon’s Rest reported an unknown flying digimon following the mountains. He dispatched Demidevimon to follow. The digimon made land about two hours ago in the woods to the north-northwest of our position. We wouldn’t have bothered and just kept an eye on it, sir, but it is carrying a _human.”_

_A_ human. _Of course._ Even these new chosen wouldn’t like what he’d done to them. Or Angewomon. He should have expected them to come poking their noses into his business eventually. Not that they could do much without the ability to digivolve. They must have found friends. “Anything…identifying about this digimon?” That it was unknown was a little disconcerting. The Dark Area, due to its nature, had a rather limited selection of digimon types. Anubimon was the only Vaccine type LordKnightmon had met—most others appeared to be of the Virus attribute like himself.

“A winged cat, sir.”

Nothing that was ringing any bells, unfortunetly. He sighed. The only winged cat he’d met was Nefertimon, and both Angewomon and the Digimental of Light were in his possession. “What about the human?”

Dobermon shrugged, the first indication of anything other than professionalism, “He’s…human, sir. Dark hair. Ryuudamon—the Gatekeeper—is with him. Along with a Wormmon.”

He glanced back at ParaAngewomon, who had a delightfully pleased smile crossing her pretty face, she knew which one it was then, from the description. “Wait outside.” He told the Dobermon, it nodded its head and marched out, the door closing behind him.

“Well?”

“Soo…the boy emperor finally returns to his home.” She seemed far too amused by the turn of events, her claws clacking together in anticipation, “The Dark Child you seek is at our very border.”

_How…convenient._

He would have to set aside the issue of the Warrior of Light for the moment, another piece of his plan was about to fall into place.

x-x-x

Takuya paced, the black disk of the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Three days. It had been three days since Daisuke had left with Dorumon. Veemon was looking worse than ever. Oh, Takuya made sure he kept the bracelet on, but the worry for his partner was finishing the work the virus had begun. The little dragon was weak, gaunt, and spent all day perched on a rock, staring intently in the direction Daisuke had left in so long ago.

Takuya was surprised he hadn’t run off to look for him. But when he’d asked, Veemon had just turned those sad green eyes to him.

_“If I leave…then how will Daisuke know where to find me?”_

He never lost the belief that Daisuke would come back for him. It was moving, that unwavering loyalty. It had made Takuya smile and clap Veemon on the shoulder, _“I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”_

Soon. The last time he’d talked to Ken they were a few days out. That was before Daisuke left. They should he here soon. Hopefully. If Daisuke wasn’t back by then…well…they would _all_ go look for him. If Takuya had his D-Scanner he would have already started. But he’d left it with Daisuke because he’d felt the Chosen needed it more to actually find the darned thing.

Besides, he could easily use Kouji’s D-Scanner to track down his own, and by proxy Daisuke. As soon as the others got here.

They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Dorumon since he’d led Daisuke away. Which was a good thing. Dorumon may have warned them that it was less harmful to a human, but dangerous for digimon. It may have been Daisuke’s decision to go alone.

But Dorumon had been the one to refuse to let them come along. Refused to let them even follow and _wait_ wherever he had led Daisuke. He’d forced Takuya’s hand, using Veemon’s well-being as leverage, and, well meaning or not, Takuya felt it hard to forgive that.

“Daisuke?” The whispered word was almost a plea. Takuya heard the scrambling of claws against stone. His heart felt like it was breaking. Not another false alarm. Not again. Desert of Despair was an apt name. Many times over the last couple days had Veemon uttered that name, seeing the faint mirage of something moving in the distance. Every time had been a bitter disappointment.

Except…it came again. Louder. With an energy that had been increasingly absent in Veemon’s voice as disappointment came again and again.

“Daisuke! Daisuke!”

Takuya sprang to his feet, crossing the sandy hollow to Veemon’s lookout spot. The faded digimon was jumping up and down ecstatically, waving his arms frantically before diving from his perch, stumbling down the black-sand slope toward a set of two figures trudging slowly toward them. One was human sized, yes. Takuya’s human eyesight couldn’t make much more out in the fading half-light, the grey sky darkening to black as the sun set. The other was small, about Dorumon’a size…

He abandoned the fire he’d been tending—the only thing able to drive off the cold of this place—and followed Veemon into the darkening evening. He saw the digimon launch himself at the human, saw the arms go wide to receive him, both boy and dragon just clinging to each other.

And then he collapsed to the sand.

“Daisuke!? C’mon, be okay, please? You just got back! Daisuke! Wake up!”

It was difficult, but Takuya was able to drag the unconscious boy the rest of the way, arranging him near the fire. The ten minutes he’d been away had been almost enough to snuff out the fire—it really did seem to hate the warmth—and Takuya had to pile on more kindling, scraggly plants and roots and stunted brush that tried to grow in this deserted place.

Daisuke looked…bad in the firelight. He was completely _covered_ in black sand, from his clothes to his hair. Some sort of weird silvery stuff clung to his pants and lower jacket, and it flaked away as Takuya touched it, rubbing off to leave a silver sheen on his gloves. Weird.

What…happened? What had happened to Daisuke?

He turned to Dorumon, who was skulking near the edge of the sandy hollow, repeating the question.

“How should I know?” The digimon shrugged, but his intense study of the unconscious boy seemed to belay his feigned unconcern, “I was about ready to give up on him when I saw him stumble out of that place less than an hour ago. It’s gone now, you know.”

He wouldn’t say anything more, but he didn’t leave either. He just settled himself near the fire, waiting. Watching. Those narrowed yellow eyes focused on the unconscious boy.

Wait. It was all they could do. Takuya tended the fire, a small light in the cold night. It would be easier to keep it going if he could digivolve. He wouldn’t need the kindling.

He didn’t even notice the change until Dorumon commented on it.

“You change skins as easily as humans do clothes, don’t you?”

“Eh?” He looked down, his once gloved fingers were now bare, metal gauntlets clasping his wrists and running up his lower arm. He flexed his hand, sparks of data floating into the night, joining the embers. He’d missed this, these last three days. The insulating warmth that no campfire could emulate.

But…he’d just been _thinking_ about digivolving. Flamemon hadn’t intended to…that would have required his digivice, which he assumed was still with Daisuke. His…other. Just-Flamemon had been able to digivolve without one, but once Takuya entered the picture, the D-Scanner had appeared.

Then again, maybe that was why he’d been able to digivolve. Daisuke was back, and with him should be his digivice.

“It’s aggravating.” Dorumon continued, eying the confused fire digimon, “Digivolution takes time. Effort. And here I’ve seen you flit from one form to another so flippantly. Why should _humans_ gain the power it took Ryuudamon and I millennia to achieve?” The fox-dragon made a snort, his wings fluttering in agitation as his eyes traveled back to Daisuke’s now snoring form. At least the boy seemed to have transitioned from unconsciousness to true sleep, which eased Takuya’s worry. “Why should a _human_ be able to seal the rift that I’ve watched over for so long? Why are you humans so important?”

x-x-x

It was well into the morning hours when Daisuke finally woke, but not quite to the point of sunrise. Flamemon had long since let the fire die—there wasn’t a need for it since his tail kept away the chill and the light, and removed the need for him to periodically range further and further from the camp for kindling. They’d long since picked the surrounding area clean.

As strange as it was to think of himself as a portable campfire, it was rather convenient in this case. He’d arranged himself in the middle of the small group, close enough for the warmth to reach them, but far enough away to avoid breeching any personal bubbles. Dorumon had given him a look, but hadn’t made any moves to distance himself. Indeed, the dragon-fox had scooted closer for a while—although about an hour ago he’d vanished completely from the hollow.

Veemon was the first to notice Daisuke stirring. The dragon digimon had conked out for a few hours, but otherwise seemed fresh and renewed, if still pale. It was like getting his partner back had restored his…fire for lack of a better term.

“Didja have a good nap, Daisuke?” Veemon beamed up at his partner, almost bouncing in place with how pleased he was to see his Chosen awake and aware, “Ya scared us when ya conked out, geez you must have been tired. You even forgot to snore for a while and you _always_ snore.”

“I do nooooot…” Daisuke yawned as he rolled over, closer to Flamemon and the warmth and light from his tail. He blinked owlishly in the pale firelight, eyes still glazed with exhaustion and sleep that had yet to be thrown off, “It’s just been…a long day…”

“It’s actually been three.” Veemon announced cheerfully, “I’ve been waiting and waiting for ya to get back and now ya did. Don’t leave without me again, okay Daisuke? I gotta be with ya to keep an eye on ya. Protect’cha.”

He pounced on the chosen as Daisuke pushed himself into a seated position. Daisuke caught Veemon automatically, “Don’t worry, I have no plans on leaving _any_ time soon. ‘m too tired. Wait…” He paused, rewinding Veemon’s torrent of words, “ _Three days?”_

He sounded faint. Strange. How had he not known? “Since you left, this is the third night.” Flamemon offered the confused chosen, then he added with an impish smile, “Don’t worry, you haven’t been _asleep_ for three days. Dorumon led you back a couple hours ago.”

“I remember that much…but…” He scrunched up his face in confusion, “It didn’t seem _that_ long. A couple hours of walking…a few more to find the reactor, I guess…”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” It’d suck if the whole thing was for nothing.

“I _think_ so? It gets fuzzy after the mirror—” Daisuke scratched at his head, and then froze as he pulled his hand away, staring at the silver stain on his arm where it had brushed against his jacket while he slept, “ _Damnit!”_

He jumped up, almost toppled over, and then sank back down to the ground as Takuya caught him, “Woah there, take it easy, okay? What’s wrong?”

“Ken’s in trouble—that’s why Wisetmon sent me back when he did.” Daisuke’s fist hit the sand, the impact muffled by the grains as they shifted with the blow, “The nosey bastard wanted to spend even _more_ time rifling through my memories— _that_ must be why I lost track of time. I don’t remember much of it but he stopped, and there was an image in the mirror—Ken, Wormmon, and this giant armored cat—They were gonna be attacked—might have already by now— _I don’t know._ He said it hadn’t happened yet, but if I hurried— _they are too far away.”_


	35. Ambushed

_Psst. Wake up._

Chilled metal bit into his skin. The command, backed by the dark power of the ring, forced Shyamon out of blissful unconsciousness.

_Don’t move yet._

He froze in mid motion—a lifting of his head that eventually turned into nothing more than a small shift—as if stirring in dreams. What was going on? He couldn’t see; eyes remaining lidded with the illusion of sleep, but his mind was quickly gaining steam, beginning to race with concern. Worry. _Fear._

There was uncertainty in Ken’s whispered voice. There was something wrong.

_Can you hear it?_

The snapping of twigs, rustling of leaves. Normal sounds for a forest. Only there were too many.

Too many. Too many padded paws, too many twigs. From every direction—not just one. The scent of digimon was overpowering. They were too loud. They weren’t even trying to disguise the noise. They wanted them to know.

They were surrounded.

At the very least outnumbered.

_Ryuudamon isn’t back yet._

Damn. Their best bet was to just fly and run. If they did that…they’d be leaving Ryuudamon behind. As much as the dragon annoyed him with the whole ‘reincarnation of Sphinxmon’ mess, it didn’t sit right with Shyamon to just leave him like that.

Then again, if there were as many digimon in the woods as he suspected—at _least_ six, and from the weight of the foot falls, they were too large to be rookie level—there was a good chance Ryuudamon had either been caught, or had caught wind of the intruders and would stay away.

Shyamon shifted, rolling off his side, settling his head on his paws, still feigning sleep.

At last Ken lightly touched Shyamon’s shoulder, _We need to go._

He’d been waiting for that. He snapped his wings free, drawing on that twist of will that turned armor and energy into solid feathers. A weight settled on his back, Ken’s hands buried deep into Shyamon’s mane.

A multitude of voices rose at once, hunting howls. The noise was wreaking havoc on Shyamon’s sensitive ears. It reverberated through the trees—way more than six. He sprang to his paws, trying to pick out anything in the light cast by the lantern Ryuudamon had left. It was frustrating—his vision would have been better _without_ the light. There was a shadow on the edge of the light, lupin in shape—a dog? Wolf?

But they weren’t here to fight. They needed to _run._ There wasn’t enough room for a running start, but he’d managed to get airborn from a dead standstill before—facing down a glowing arrow.

 _I hope you have wings._ He thought grimly at the shapes in the forest, muscles coiled, wings ready for that crucial downbeat. He sprang, catching the dead air of the forest and forcing it to life. The sudden rush of wind scattered leaves and lantern flame alike. It flickered, but didn’t go out as Shyamon rose off the ground.

_Bang!_

Suddenly everything was _blinding._ It seared his eyes, causing Shyamon to roar in pain. His wingbeats faltered, but he didn’t lose it. He didn’t lose it.

Not until at least four heavy weights sprang onto his back, even more latching onto his paws with teeth and claws--dragging him down.

x-x-x

Astamon opened his eyes to the snarls of beasts fighting. He watched with satisfaction—his dark-accustomed vision easily piercing the darkness—as his pack swarmed the cat, dragging the winged digimon back to the forest floor. Anubimon might keep the smartest dobermon at the keep, but Astamon’s pack was _quite_ well trained. Champion or Ultimate, it didn’t matter to them.

He patted his Golden Salmon fondly—most wouldn’t have even tried to make such a shot with a _machine_ gun. But he knew his weapons, and they knew him. They never failed him. It was child’s play to shoot out a lantern, but it was ingenuity to use an exploding bullet to do so.

Light blindness. It was always such a fun trick to use on those who _dared_ to light up the night.

Fire was for the lords, locked up in their little castles and keeps. Out here in the shadows of trees that never see the sun…

This was his hunting ground. And his prey was before him.

He strode through the underbrush, the nose of his Golden Salmon trailing through the scraggly grasses. He ignored the pile of digimon, instead making his way to the lump of human that one of his Dobermon had thrown from the cat’s back. They knew what his target was.

He almost felt…disappointed. Ever since the fiasco with the Dark Masters years ago, the Chosen Children had been a bit of a legend in the Dark Area. The Chosen Children had managed to defeat that which their own leaders, the Lords of Hell, could only seal away. Sealing Apocalymon—once Lucemon— had been one of the few times they bothered to work together, trapping him between the light and dark areas.

This was…too easy. Too easy and unfulfilling of an ending for one of those legends.

“Get up and fight, boy.”

The child stirred, but it was a tiny, insect digimon that stood up to him. A Wormmon. The digimon placed himself between his partner and Astamon, “You leave Ken alone.”

His lips curled into a sneer, “Are you going to make me?”

“I _will_ protect him.”

It was pathetic. Astamon lifted his Golden Salmon, aiming the huge gun directly at the small digimon. He doubted it would even be able to withstand one of his Maverick kicks, much less a Hellfire. It was overkill. As much as he enjoyed a well executed hunt, this much overkill left a sour taste in his mouth. He wanted a challenge, not murder. A rookie—chosen digimon or not—wouldn’t have enough data to be worth absorbing. He would rather give it to one of his Dobermon—at least they would be able to make use of it.

“Wormmon, stop,” The boy was moving, good. Anubimon wanted him alive. He pushed himself up with shaking arms.

“If you value his life, you will come with me of your own accord.” Astamon took pleasure in the boy’s gaze shifting between Golden Salmon and Wormmon’s small body. He then saw them flicker to the snarling pile of Dobermon. He had expected them to have taken out the cat by now. But it kept throwing off the dogs, only to have two more jump on. _That_ might be a more fulfilling fight. But this was business, not pleasure.

“I wouldn’t bother.” Astamon made a point of flicking the safety—not that he needed it. His weapon was as much a part of him as his own hand—“My dogs will keep him busy for some time yet.” He paused for effect, “Long enough to pull the trigger.”

The boy’s fists clenched, then his shoulders slumped. “Fine.”

“Good boy.” Astamon responded with a fanged smile, “Now get up, and start walking.”

The boy pushed himself to his feet, shifting a pack that had been looped awkwardly around his arm. Astamon only kept half an eye on the child—what could he do? He still had the Wormmon in his sights, and once his bullets had a target, they would never miss—and pulled out a tin whistle. He’d left Devidramon further away—he wasn’t as well trained as the Dobermon. A short puff of air, and the signal was sent—only Devidramon would be able to hear it.

But during those brief moments of inattention, the chosen had carefully slipped his hand into the bag.

Something cold cut into his arm, metal seeming to dig into his flesh even through fabric. He looked down, runes blazing red along the black band, showing up starkly against the white of his coat.

“Put the gun down.”

Time seemed to slow as Astamon’s head swung back to the child. He was pale, shaking, but his eyes were hard. Determined. He was holding on to something—some sort of device. The screen glowing a red that was matching the digital runes on the ring.

“Put. It. Down.”

Pain cut into his arm. Golden Salmon wavered, the tip drifting down. No. Why was he doing this? Why was he listening to this boy? This boy was his target. His…

“Wormmon. Move.” The human child snapped, the insect hastened to obey. The child’s eyes were locked with Astamon’s. His thoughts were indistinct. The sounds of the fighting Dobermon and roars from the cat digimon faded.

His…

“Call off the dogs and drop the gun.”

Yes. This boy was his Master.

Some of the haze cleared with that realization. Astamon considered the command. If that was what the master wanted… The Dobermon…yes…it would only take a quick whistle. His free hand rose to his lips, giving the three note cadence to call them back to his side. There was no harm in that.

They slunk to his side, confused, beaten and battered. There were only eight. Two were missing.

He didn’t drop his Golden Salmon; but he lowered it to his side. It was his baby. The ground was no place for his pride and joy. The human eyed it, but made no further comment on it.

“Send the dogs home.”

“Back to the lodge.” Astamon didn’t hesitate, addressing the Dobermon. His voice lost some of the dreamy tone, re-gaining some of its authority and edge. They needed rest and healing. More than one was limping as they slunk into the forest, flanks torn open by sharp claws or teeth. Two were nothing more than bits of data, but Astamon didn’t think much of it. The weakest would die, and the pack would grow stronger for it.

“Shyamon!” His master spoke again, not to him, but at his other servant. The winged cat approached, suspicious red gaze locked on Astamon. Why such a look? They were both servants of the master.

His hounds had done some damage, a small part of his mind noticed dreamily. A strange red liquid seeped from a multitude of claw rakes and bite marks, matting the dark fur in places. One wing hung limply, dragging along the ground as the master pulled Shyamon further away, speaking quietly.

Why _had_ his hounds been fighting his master’s servant anyway? Perhaps it was training of sorts. A culling of the weak.

There was something wrong with this situation. Astamon knew it. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His hounds normally looked so proud after a training mission, especially when some of their number perished. They were proud to be alive, to have surivived. To have grown stronger.

Not…defeated. Not defeated and confused, limping off with their non-existant tails between their legs.

_Mission…_

He…had a mission. One that…wasn’t complete yet. He just…couldn’t remember what it was.

Perhaps his master knew.

His master was still conversing with Shyamon, gesturing at the limp wing. He was probably scolding him. Berating him for receiving such an injury. He could have heard them if he tried, his hearing was keen due to his profession as a hunter, but he felt no need to expend the effort. The master would tell him if it were needed. For now he would just wait.

The wing dissolved into wisps of cloud, the good one folding as it did so. His master snapped the armor for the useless one back into place. The cat shook itself, before releasing newly manifested, fully healed wings into the night air. The feathers blended into the darkness, sparks of purple energy fizzing in the night. The Wormmon was lifted onto the cat’s back.

They were leaving.

“Master.”

The boy flinched, but turned, one hand on Shyamon’s shoulder, “What is it?”

“What is my mission?”

What was the mission he couldn’t remember…?

His master thought for a few moments.

“Go. Return to your lodge.”

And then they were gone, the winged cat springing into the air with a steady beat of his wings. The resulting downdraft teased Astamon’s silver hair, tossing up leaves and twigs and dirt. It teased at his jacket, whipping it around.

Something keened overhead.

What was Devidramon doing here…?

Astamon, lost in the haze of the Dark Ring’s command, fingered the tin whistle for a moment, before turning and following his hounds into the night.

x-x-x

“It won’t hold him long.” Ken muttered, clinging to Shyamon’s mane as the winged lion rose through the trees. They were lucky flight seemed to involve innate magic as much as it did biology in this world—they shouldn’t have been able to make this ascent.

The digimon hadn’t dropped his gun. That had been as telling as anything.

The rings were hit or miss with ultimate digimon. A champion would have unwaveringly followed his orders. He’d been emboldended by the success of the ring with Shyamon and had hoped…

But no. Pity he didn’t have one of the spirals. Another servant to guard and assist him on this venture would have made things _much_ easier. As it was, the hold would fail sooner rather than later, and the best bet was just to send him away while the thrall held.

Another _servant?_

He’d…he’d…

Sharp pain broke through his thoughts, shattering that crystal clear mindset. Why hadn’t he noticed? He’d…the other digimon had threatened Wormmon. Then…then…

Everything had just…made sense. The pain had faded, the world narrowing to one specific problem. A problem that he could eliminate easily using the tools in his pack. His D-3 and…and…

He untangled one of his hands from Shyamon’s mane, ignoring Wormmon’s worried questions and the branches and leaves that tugged at him while Shyamon navigated the forest’s thick canopy, leaping from thick branches just as much as attempting flight. He groped for his pack, frantically searching the contents for cold metal.

None. The ring was gone.

The enormity of what he’d done hit him then. With Shyamon, it had been an accident. His D-3 had reacted to his unconscious desire. This one…he’d…he’d…

He’d _knowingly_ put a Dark Ring on that digimon—with the full intention of enslaving him.

He was shaking.

It had been self defense. He had threatened _Wormmon._

But Ken had still _done it._

He could still see that humanoid digimon, the black metal dark against the white and red coat, standing at a respectful distance. The gun hung lazily at his side, completely willing to wait patiently for the notice of the human he’d just been trying to _capture._ Silver hair spilled over his shoulder, from beneath a brown furred mask, a scar crossing the bridge of his muzzle, too near to empty red eyes.

He’d had red eyes before…but they hadn’t been so empty.

He was shaking. His palms were growing slick. Wormmon was pressed against him, having figured out what was bothering his partner. Ken’s free arm left the pack, curling around his digimon’s small body.

“You did what you had to, Ken.” Pause, “We couldn’t have gotten away without you.”

He knew that. He knew that. The Dobermon had immediately gone for Shyamon’s wings. Even if Shyamon had wanted to rush over to Ken and take off, they couldn’t have. Not until Ken had been able to reset whatever mechanism or process that created them from armor and cloud.

It still made him feel sick. Still made him feel terrible.

“I’m sorry you had to…” Wormmon’s voice was almost lost in the rushing air. “I should have been able to protect you…”

“Don’t say that! I should have digivolved you.” He’d failed to even do his duty as a partner. He should have used that opportunity to digivolve Wormmon rather than…enslave the enemy. That would have been right. Better for the both of them. It didn’t matter that Togemogumon was an armor, and the enemy an ultimate…

Shyamon broke through the trees, and any more blame taking and self-pity had to be put aside as the claustrophobic canopy suddenly opened up into the lightening skies. Dawn in the Dark Area was such an awkward time. At least during the day Ken could pretend it was merely overcast if he ignored the small black speck in the sky.

Now though, now the horizon was twisted with black and greys where the myriad colors of dawn should be. Shyamon corrected his flight, heading straight for the huge black disk of the sun as it rose over the forest top. Ken shielded his eyes on reflex, but the ‘light’ cast by Dark Area’s sun was more eerie than painful. They were closer to the end of the forest than he’d thought.

…they didn’t have Ryuudamon to guide them anymore. They just had to keep going east. Over the river and to the desert.

He noticed Shyamon swinging around, pointing south and away from the direction they needed to go. South. Toward the dark shape rising above the trees in the distance. A fortress?

“No.” He said quietly, and Shyamon’s wing-beats stuttered. Guilt coiled in his chest, the ring would be glowing with the command, even as it was hidden from his sight by Shyamon’s armor. “We can’t go there yet.”

He didn’t have a chance to address the frustrated growl; it was rendered moot by an earsplitting shriek, one that chilled Ken to the bones for how familiar it was. Shyamon banked sharply, searching frantically for the source.

The screech echoed on the wind, a dark winged shape speeding out of the blackness of the receeding night. It overshot them, but the speed of its passing kicked up a sharp buffet of wind and force, sending Shyamon tumbling head over paws as he sought to right himself. Ken struggled to hold on, but one arm was clutching Wormmon to his chest. The other, tangled in Shyamon’s mane, slipped.

Ken saw the red claws and four red eyes—Devidramon—as the digimon came in for another round. This time he could make out the words inside the shrieking wind.

_“Demonic Gale! Crismon Nails!”_

Ken’s already tenuous hold broke, and he was thrown into the air, Wormmon still held protectively. He couldn’t tell what was up and what was down as he and Wormmon tumbled through the air, leaving behind the aeriel battle as it got into full swing. Ken squeezed his eyes shut, Wormmon growing warm in his hold.

“Wormmon digivo—!”

But then it felt as if they were plunging into cold liquid, and everything went black.

x-x-x

Shyamon noticed the lack of weight as soon as Ken lost his hold, but the Devidramon’s attacks were _fast._ It took some fancy maneuvering to evade the constant barrage of red claws and get into position where he could dive after the falling chosen, especially after how rattled the shockwaves had left him.

He couldn’t fail again. No. He’d failed to reach his brother in time, locked in battle with Angewomon. He would _not_ fail Ken too.

The Devidramon shrieked its challenge at him, and Shyamon only barely had enough time to fold his wings and _drop_ as four beams of red shot through the spot he’d just been occupying. He spun into the drop, briefly getting a glimpse of the Devidramon tucking his own wings into a dive, the same eerie red energy that had caused those shockwaves earlier growing around him—a red blade slicing through the air, slowly gaining on him.

Shyamon completed the rotation, putting Devidramon at his back and out of his mind. He’d deal with him when he caught Ken. At least he knew the shockwaves would trail _behind_ the other digimon.

Even with his wings tucked, he was hardly gaining on Ken—the Devidramon had kept him occupied long enough. Shyamon didn’t understand—Ken said the humanoid digimon had wanted him _alive_. Why would Devidramon do this?

Ken was almost to the tree-line. Wormmon had a faint glow stuttering around him, cutting through the weird half-dark. Could he be…? If Togemogumon used his shield it might break Ken’s fall, and Togemogumon was more resilient than Wormmon…

But before the digivolution cry could even be lost in the rushing wind, something shimmered directly in Ken’s path. It was only there for an instant, an oblong object, shiny and metallic, a golden ornate border around the edges.

Shyamon _knew_ this. Kouichi _knew_ it. Duskmon had _known_ it. Although that mirror had been a circle, and rimmed with green and red.

_Mercuremon!_

The glass rippled as the chosen passed through, leaving only Shyamon’s startled reflection on the mirror’s face.

Then it flickered, fading. Fading into nothing-ness.

Only one thought echoed through Shyamon’s mind as his evolution unraveled in mid-air, with an angry Devidramon close on his heels.

 _I can’t protect_ anyone.

x-x-x

The glowing red runes on the dark ring flickered, dimming completely as its only source of power was pulled from this world. Astamon slowed, looking around the forest in bewilderment.

…what was he doing _here?_

x-x-x

_Not now!_

Kouji shivered as the warning tingle ran through his body, the little space of his mind that he’d recognized as Shadow was shuddering, tense, just waiting. The Zassoumon tightened its grip on his arms, the spiked thorns on the vines digging painfully into his skin.

“Are you afraid?” LordKnightmon’s voice sounded amused; delighted even, “My, my, such a different tune you sing after a week as my guest. What happened to your pride? That defiant _spark_.”

Kouji ignored him. Instead, he focused on that point of connection. He felt Shadow doing the same, that other consciousness drawing in on itself defensively. They both knew what was coming.

 _Not now, Nii-san!_ The thoughts were futile, but they made Kouji feel better. A little.

“Hmm…I see even you have learned not to wag your tongue at your betters, child. Although the lesson is too little too late. _Now…_ Let us have another look at your code…”

He fought it. He fought the sucking cold draw as LordKnightmon delivered a swift kick to his side. He was trying to call out the digicode. Zassoumon’s vines were turning his arms into a canvas of scratches, blood welling about the shallow thorns, trickling down his arms. The pain from the kick had him doubled over, which caused the thorns to be driven deeper.

Damn. Damn. Kouichi—now was not the time to try and dedigivolve! His body shuddered, not from the physical pain, but from the uncomfortable stretching as the lock tried to click. Tried, and failed as Shadow pulled as far back as he could. They couldn’t—not with LordKnightmon here! The connection was stronger than the last time—was his D-Scanner closer? He

couldn’t ask Shadow—couldn’t afford to distract him as he focused on not digivolving.

The creeping chill that signified manifesting digicode settled over him, but he could do nothing to stop it.

“Now…what do we have here…?” He’d never had his data truely scanned before. Not like Izumi or Junpei. It was as if someone were running a finger lightly, _very lightly_ along his soul. It made him shake involuntarily, even as he told himself to not show any reaction.

Shadow had always been the one to inevitably take over during LordKnightmon’s visits, the digimon being better able to block out everything, drawing both himself and Kouji into the deepest parts of their mind. But right now Shadow was busy; trying to fight the very thing they’d been wanting for days.

“There _is_ something here! Two sets of data! Slightly out of sync,” LordKnightmon crowed in delight, and then he _yanked._

Shadow yelped, something closer to Akemon’s whine than Shadow’s “human” voice. Kouji held on to him, held on to him with a possessiveness borne of desperation. The digimon was no longer holding back the evolution; he was merely trying to _hold on_ as LordKnightmon tugged at their data, progressively trying harder as he sought to separate the human from the digimon.

“So, the spirits were here all along.” LordKnightmon’s mutterings drifted through the haze of pain—both physical and not—“But they are woven strangely into the boy’s aura. I can pull them to the forefront but there is something…tying them together…enough force…hmm…Hold him! And await my return.”

Kouji sagged into Zassoumon’s vines as LordKnightmon released his hold on their data, letting the digital code settle the way it was meant to. Thorns still bit into his arms, but the physical pain was welcome. They were a distraction. A distraction from the ache that was growing inside.

Kouji abandoned the outside world, seeking out Shadow in the depths of his mind. Or…was he even still Shadow? That yelp had sounded more like Akemon…

 _Not quite…_ That exhausted presence responded to his concerned probing. He was still wound tighter than a spring, the lock straining uncomfortably. There was dread poisoning the atmosphere. Dread for a situation much closer to home.

 _He knows…_ Shadow’s lament was a cross between a whimper and a whisper, _He knows I’m here._

He knows where the spirits are.

_I won’t let him take you!_ Kouji surprised both of them with the conviction in that thought. Just a few short days ago—had it truly been a week or more, as LordKnightmon had said?—he would have been quite happy to remove the unwanted presence from his mind. But…

Damnit, if growing attached to a voice in his head—after it being the _only_ non-hostile presence he’d been able to cling to in this place of skin-crawling evil—was crazy, then so be it. Shadow had done his best to protect him during the rest of this imprisonment—both from the physical pains of LordKnightmon’s attentions and the mental pain of going stir-crazy inside a small dark cell—he _was_ going to return the favor.

 _We might not have a choice._ He wasn’t sure where the grim thought originated; perhaps it was from them both. Kouji remembered his arguments to Gennai.

“ _I can’t stop him from scanning my data!”_

He hadn’t thought about it much since, once they found out LordKnightmon couldn’t find the spirits. They were fused with Shadow, and Shadow was a part of him. They weren’t separate entities like they used to be.

But now…

_How did he find it?_

The lock. Every other time LordKnightmon had looked, they’d huddled close together, trying to blurr the lines between human and digimon as much as they could to muddle things. With the lock. With the lock clicking…

Shadow had to pull away to prevent evolving.

He could still feel it straining. They were only lucky that they didn’t have the energy for it.

“Well, well, let us try _this_ then.”

His clenched fists were wrenched open by LordKnightmon’s gauntleted fingers, the cool, but ridged shapes of feathered wings being pressed against his aching palms. A jolt of warmth ran up his arm, and to Kouji’s horror something slowly faded into view, illuminated to their light-sensitive vision by the pure radiance it gave off.

It wasn’t the Essence of Light.

It was the _Digimental._

It didn’t stop there. Kouji was left nearly blinded by the rush of color and shapes—it was just like in the tunnels, where Ken’s flashlight had seared into the shadows clouding his vision, cleared up by the Essence of Light.

Grey-green vines tightened around him, and LordKnightmon stood before him, in all his flamboyant pink and gold glory. Kouji’s memories of him were _tame_ in comparison to the image before him—arcing gold ribbons of armor, a beaked helmet, and formfitting armor. The code swirled around Kouji, and his eyes slowly focused on it, on the swirling bars of blue and white. They were…blurring.

LordKnightmon reached out.

And _yanked._ Something _snapped._ And Kouji was thrown back into the depths of their mind, leaving Shadow to be dragged forward, kicking and snarling as their body _shifted._

Shadow felt his body settle. It wasn’t Akemon. Even the power of the Digimental of Light couldn’t completely erase the weakness bred from starvation and improperly cared for injuries. His beast form took too much energy, and his actual spirit evolutions were out of the question.

But he wasn’t _human_ anymore either. He was too out of sync with Kouji for that to be possible.

Kouji was a faint presence in the back of his mind; the forced shift would take time to settle. Something felt off. Strange. He couldn’t place it—he didn’t have time to place it. He snarled and lashed out, the Zassoumon giving a sharp cry of pain as claws slashed deep into those hated thorny vines. They were long—wickedly sharp. He drew even more strength from the Digimental as the vines withdrew, the Zassoumon dropping him like a hot potato. He spun, sprinting as far from LordKnightmon as he could. Zassoumon looked like a grey veggiemon, but he didn’t even try to block the way as Shadow barreled passed him, nursing a torn vine.

He was humanoid—that much was clear by this point. He had two legs, and hands—although a quick glance had blue fur disappearing into black gloves, tipped by wicked claws. His nose was keen, although not as keen as when he was Akemon. He could tell that there was Zassoumon over _there,_ and LordKnightmon was back _there—_

It was _gone._

And then the wind shifted—there wasn’t supposed to be _wind_ in a place like this.A strong, unyielding hand caught him by the scarf, yanking his feet off the ground. The Digimental was knocked out of his claws, and with it went the buzzing energy he’d been drawing off. With it went the light, plunging him into darkness once more, aching from once again being able to see, and losing it all over again.

He hung suspended in the abyss. Nothing surrounding him. The only thing that existed was the gauntleted grip on his scarf, the fingers digging into the ruff of fur covering his shoulders and neck.

Using the last of his dwindling energy, Storabimon swiped out with those wicked claws, warmth running along his hand as he instinctively activated the attack, “ _Licht Nagel!”_

It glanced off unyeilding metal with a sharp ring, one that seared into his sensative hearing. His ears flattened instinctively, attempted to block out the sound.

LordKnightmon chuckled, “Now, now, don’t be in such a hurry to leave. We haven’t even been properly _introduced_ yet—little Warrior of Light.”


	36. Through the Looking Glass

“Don’t even _think_ about moving.”

To be fair, the twitch of his hand that had prompted the comment was enough to convince him that he didn’t _want_ to move. He _hurt._ But it wasn’t a physical hurt. It was almost like something had just… _snapped_. It had been wound up so tight and just…couldn’t take it anymore.

He was just so _tired._ He’d pushed himself so hard. So far. Maybe he should just rest. Just lie here in the dirt and let his thoughts drift off again.

But…there was a reason he’d been going through all this. It was important. It prodded at his sluggish mind, a quiet little voice, insisting that there was something he needed to do, and it wasn’t just to aimlessly hover right on the edge of unconsciousness.

He’d had to…help someone.

 _I can’t protect_ anyone.

The thought was painful, echoing accusingly through the haze.

He…had to protect someone.

He…failed to protect someone.

A small shape plummeting further and further away. He couldn’t reach them. The trees were rushing up to meet them. Each wingbeat was frantic as he tried to close the distance.

 _Wings?_ He didn’t have wings.

That was _wrong._

He ignored the disembodied scolding, flexing his hand in that same twist of will and muscle that would call out the claws he knew he _should_ have…

Blunt human nails scratched shallow furrows in the loamy forest floor.

He was _human._

Kouichi was _human._

A yawning pit of dread churned in his gut as he pushed himself up, ignoring the heavy weight attempting to push him back down. His vision was near useless, no light would break the heavy canopy of the trees, Kouichi remembered that now. No matter how good his eyesight—it could do nothing without light. Not as a human.

Why was he human? He shouldn’t be human. They had Kouji’s D-Scanner. He shouldn’t be able to evolve to loosen the locking pro—

Something had _snapped._

He felt…odd. Lighter. Like a pressure had lifted from his shoulders. And it terrified him.

That pressure, keeping him in his digimon form, had been the only way he _knew_ Kouji was still there. That and the D-Scanner.

Which…had been with Ken.

“Damn it…” The word was whispered, as the cold chill of failure settled once more in his soul. Ken had fallen into that mirror. The darkness gathered around him, pressing in on him. Breathing was hard.

Did they capture Ken? He—Duskmon—the _Warrior of Darkness_ had seen Mercuremon traverse great distances with that mirror. Was there some other digimon that could do such a thing?

After all that. After Sphinxmon. After the Dark Whirlpool. The long, exhausting journey this far. After being buried under a relentless pack of Dobermon, all while trying his best _not_ to kill them—the sharp “ _Murderers!”_ still echoed in his mind—fighting against the whispers of the creeping corruption of his place…

After all that…and he couldn’t even protect _Ken._ How did he ever think he could save _Kouji?_

“Are…you okay?”

Kouichi drew his knees to his chest and shook his head. Sphinxmon’s stone was a weight around his neck, dragging him down as he rested his arms on his knees, holding them tight.

In the back of his mind, a little voice wormed through the dismal mindscape—finding that small spark of anger and prodding it.

_We offered you power._

_But humans are weak._

_You chose your_ human _over power._

_Where did that get you?_

He was drowning, but he didn’t want to grab the only hand reaching for him.

x-x-x

“ _See? Your friend survived.”_

The image of Kouichi huddled in a scatter of broken tree limbs and shrubs slowly faded, even as Ryuudamon placed a comforting claw on the boy’s knee. It was replaced by Ken’s bedraggled reflection.

Survived. A good way to put it.

The mirror’s polished surface dimmed as the green cloth settled around it, the digimon crossing his arms.

“ _He will live. You will live. Both of these would not be true had I not stopped your fall.”_

Ken set his jaw and met the digimon’s eyes—two glowing yellow orbs beneath the shadow of a shrouding hat. “And why _did_ you stop it? Shyamon could have caught me.”

“ _Powerful Sphinxmon may be, but his fate is wrought in tragedy.”_ The green hat moved, the digimon shaking his head, “ _And his is not the power that claims you.”_

“Sphinxmon is _dead.”_ Ken would worry about the whole claiming thing later, “Send me back. I need to help my friend.”

A strange sound bubbled up from the depths of blackness, a hollow metallic sound. Laughter. “ _Digimon never_ die, _child. Why would you want to go_ back? _Are you not looking for something?”_

The mirror glimmered as the sleeves were thrown wide. An image flickered in the glass depths—not Ken’s reflection, but sand. Rolling hills of sand. Something glinted in the sun, light pink and _familiar._

Looking for—Ken flinched, “How would you know?”

“ _Another seeks this thing, in your stead. Another…friend. Which would you choose, I wonder?”_ The image flickered, and Ken found himself staring into a familiar, if utterly sand-caked face. Daisuke seemed lost in the folds of green cloak, his jacket dirty and torn, silver stains marring the blue of the fabric. Ken found himself reaching out, catching himself and pulling back as he reminded himself that it was just a reflection.“Daisuke—! Is he here?”

But a quick look around left this strange empty world just as…empty as before. A lonely floating platform in a white void.

“ _He was. He was the one to wake me from an eternity of sleep. But he had no claim to that which he sought.”_

“And you do? You have enough of a claim to deny him?” What had he done to Daisuke? And what of Kouichi? And what had he meant by _choose?_ Ken didn’t like the growing sense of unease this whole situation was giving him.

“ _It is_ mine. _That bauble was my offering to the future I forsaw. A_ promise. _”_

The digimon towered over him, seeming to double in size, his presence seeming to fill even the endless white world.

_“I am Wisetmon, the Elemental of Steel. The Seer of Fates. You have been drawing on my power since you first came to this world, Ichijouji Ken, years ago.”_

The digimon made a sweeping motion with his sleeve, the feather on the end flaring with a final flourish. Ken’s D-3 rose along with it, slipping out of his pack with ease. He didn’t dare grab for it, the screen shining _red_.

If that were true…then _here_ was the source of his D-3’s dark power.

“ _No. My power is neither good, nor evil. Neither light, nor darkness. I am but a mirror.”_

A mirror…

“ _I reflect the light,”_ but the image in the reflective glass was not of this blinding white world. It was darkening. The sky was grey, the water black. A lighthouse overlooked a lonely cliff, black light arcing over the horizon. “ _But when there is nothing around but shadow…”_

So it was all his fault.

 _“Stop running from the darkness, child. It is not your enemy.”_ The image shivered, something shifting in and out of focus along the shore. There was a small child, and an older one. Their backs were to the viewer, facing…something, something that loomed in the heavy shadow. Ken flinched, four arms. Garurumon’s legs. Kabuterimon’s head. But the color was all wrong.There were no wings, and two huge canons loomed over the ethereal shadow of a dragon… “ _Your fear only feeds that which torments you.”_

_My power is Eternal!_

Wisetmon crossed his arms, cutting off the image in the mirror. Ken’s D-Scanner floated gently into his slack hands. He … _knew_ that shape. Kimeramon was one of his largest mistakes. His “perfect” digimon. Devimon had warned him. Warned him he was messing with powers he did not understand.

But…that _wasn’t_ Kimeramon. Yet…the sight of it sent spikes of remembered pain and fear running through his mind. It made him shake. They were old memories. Wormmon would know. Wormmon might remember.

But…Wormmon wasn’t here. He was waiting. Waiting for Ken to find out what this stupid digimon wanted, and then join up with him. The first thing Ken had asked about was Wormmon, and he’d been shown a startled Daisuke as Wormmon tumbled out of the mirror. Alone.

“What do you want from me…?” His words were whispered, but they echoed in a space that should have swallowed them up with its sheer enormity. Wisetmon had moved closer. Ken looked up at the unreadable yellow eyes. They just kept staring down at him. Not really so much impassive as they were expressionless. They were glowing specks of yellow, lost in the shadows of an empty cowl

The mirror swung, away from him. “ _You seek what is now known as the Crest of Kindness, do you not?”_

Ken nodded.

“ _It is beyond your reach. I’m afraid even my powers of foresight are not infalliable. Paildramon’s might shattered it. But there is another option.”_

_The Essence. “_ So there _IS_ a Sanctum of Kindess.”

“ _Of a sorts.”_

This was good news. He’d come to the Dark Area hoping that the Crest of Kindness had fallen through the rift when the base exploded. It was a long shot but…this was good news. So why did he feel so uneasy?

Weren’t both the crests and digimentals needed to unlock the Sanctums? With the crest—gone…

_“It was never completed. Never locked. There is no ‘Essence of Kindness.’”_

“Then what do you _want_ from me?” Ken’s fists clenched. He just wanted…he just wanted this over with. He wanted to find Wormmon. He wanted to find Daisuke. Kouichi. Kouji.

He wanted to put this whole disaster behind him. Lay the matter of the Digimon Kaiser to rest. He wanted to be _done._

But he would never be done.

_“I’m here to offer you a choice, Chosen of mine. Do you choose to save this world? Or save your friend? Darkness is teetering on a knife-edge, and Sphinxmon’s destiny will always end in pain.”_

x-x-x

“You.”

He had a visitor. He didn’t recognize the voice. Storabimon clicked his claws together, pointedly ignoring them. Everything still felt…strange. After some more taunting, LordKnightmon hadn’t wasted any time in throwing him back in the dungeon. Unfortunetly, Storabimon found he was having troubles even more pressing than that.

He couldn’t find Kouji.

That wasn’t completely true. He knew that his other self was there. Somewhere, a faint, scattered presence in their shared mind-space. But…he couldn’t reach him.

He felt…like he’d been set adrift. His anchor gone.

“You don’t belong.”

And there was that damn annoying visitor again. The deep-voiced digimon refused to let him block out the world, the words knifing through with the tone of one used to issuing commands. Irritated, he flicked an ear in the direction of the voice which he assumed was standing on the other side of the cell door—he had _missed_ the enhanced senses—and snapped back, “Of course I don’t belong here. It’s the _Dark_ World _._ ”

He was Light. Or he should be. Even if digivolving, and the Digimental of Light had healed the worst of their wounds, he didn’t have the energy to do more than just growl and throw off a few haphazard swipes. There was no way LordKnightmon would feed him more than the barest minimum now, given it had been proven that he _could_ digivolve.

There was a rustle of…feathers? He’d noticed a similar sound when Angewomon had visited. Wings. Was this a bird-type of digimon? He took a deep breath, testing the scents.

He hadn’t expected much. This place was filled with the reek of virus types, and it overpowered anything else. But this…

He smelled like Tailmon, back in the park. Clean and pure, lacking the coppery after-taste of LordKnightmon and Zassoumon that instinct classified as _virus._

_A Vaccine type…?_

He hadn’t been able to recognize it then. Barely awake—confused and lost in the unfamiliar mesh of mind and world. Tailmon had rescued him—cloaking them long enough for Kouji to regain his senses.

But…what was a vaccine type doing _here?_

In the end, what did it matter?

“Just go away.”

Nothing. Storabimon almost hoped that he was alone again. Then the voice spoke again.

“You are human. Yet you are digimon. You do not belong in the cycle.”

The cycle? He vaguely remembered Gennai mentioning something about a cycle. Kouji had been in complete control, and had been actively trying to block him out then.

…and he couldn’t even reach Kouji to _ask._

_“_ Go. Away.”

The words were almost a growl, the points of his claws scraping against the stone floor of the cell. He didn’t need some holier-than-thou digimon preaching to him about how he was a freak. ParaAngewomon had done enough of that. Her scent was almost gone, lost amid the cloud of _virus._

“I wonder…what would happen if you _died?”_

Storabimon stiffened, forcing his leadened body to get to his feet. He felt so heavy. So tired. But there was the sound of claws scraping metal. His own claws were his only defense now, his and Kouji’s, if that digimon came closer.

“What would happen if I judged you? Right now?”

The tone was mildly interested, curious, more so than anything. Chains rattled as Storabimon settled into a defensive posture—an extra precaution LordKnightmon hadn’t deemed worthy for him as a _human._ But they restricted his movements, one on each leg. He wouldn’t be able to dodge. There was _presence_ raidiating off the digimon now—as if a veil had been torn back and let the sun bore into a darkened room. Was _this_ the power of a mega? Or worse? Storabimon _knew_ he was out-classed. Out matched as he was now. It was ten-times worse than going up against LordKnightmon as Wolfmon. Perhaps even a hundred.

Worse. He couldn’t even digivolve if he wanted to.

“Would you become a digi-egg? Would the human body _die_? Could a human soul subsist on data alone?”

Storabimon had never felt so alone before. Lost and blind. _Frightened._ Anyamon had been the one in battle. Akemon had only ever existed during the down-times. While Kouichi was at school, or that one time in the Sanctum of Courage. Even when he’d been Wolfmon, he’d had _Kouji_ with him. Even when they were fighting, he’d never been alone.

Now he was. He was straining his ears—his only warning would be the wrench and scream of twisted metal as the doors were torn open. Or even something an innocuous as the click of the lock.

And then…it faded, the veil settling back into place.

“What do you want?” He was shaking. Why was he shaking? He was…afraid.

“What do I want…?” The digimon repeated the question, considering. “You have seen it, haven’t you? The End.”

…The Digital World, reduced to two moons floating around an empty space where a planet had once been.

Yes. He had.

And just like that, the digimon was gone, leaving Storabimon trapped in memories of a world they had failed to save. One they’d needed to avenge.

x-x-x

Damn that mirror.

Daisuke watched Ken brooding on the other side of the small fire. He found himself getting angry. He’d been ecstatic, worried, but mostly relieved when Ken stumbled through the shimmering mirror shortly after Wormmon. He was pale, withdrawn and he looked _so tired_. What had Wisetmon done?

“Nothing…” Ken had sighed, “He didn’t do anything, Daisuke.”

“Like hell he did.” Daisuke grumbled, “That jerk mirror kept _me_ for three days and rifled through my head. Mostly about _you._ And I’m sure he didn’t keep you there for nearly an _hour_ after Wormmon just for chit-chat. He had to have done _something.”_

“I appreciate the concern, but it’s rather _personal.”_ Ken snapped back, and then stopped, shaking his head. The motion dislodged a small stone on a silver chain. Daisuke’d completely missed it before; the black of the stone blending in to the dark-grey patterns on Ken’s sweater, there was a little red symbol showing, now that it shifted “Sorry, Daisuke. I haven’t been in the best of moods. This place gets to me.”

“Tell me about it.” Daisuke muttered, glacing at Veemon who was oblivious to it. He was at Ken’s side, chatting animatedly at Wormmon, who was trying, and failing to pay attention. The insect digimon seemed to be watching his partner more than anything. There _was_ something going on. And Wormmon was worried about it. At least Veemon seemed so much better than when they first came to this place.

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence, Daisuke fiddling with the hem of his jacket—he _still_ hadn’t managed to get all the silver stuff off it—and Ken staring moodily into the small fire Takuya had left behind.

“…I would have helped.” Daisuke was the one to break it after a few minutes, “I was worried.”

The others hadn’t realized Ken was _gone._ Like not-home-completely-gone. Iori and Miyako figured he’d taken an extended absence again—and Miyako was adamant about letting Ken have his privacy if he needed it. Especially after everything that happened. Takeru had been too worried about Hikari. Daisuke worried about her too…but Ken was his friend too.

When he found out Ken hadn’t been going to school…when he called to find out he hadn’t been home…

“I know.” Ken snatched up one of the twigs from the rapidly dwindling pile, tossing it into the flames. It popped and crackled, the flames hungrily devouring the new fuel. It was a little bit stronger. But it was a waste of fuel to try and get it much bigger. It wouldn’t work. “Why did you follow?”

“Because you’re my friend, duh.” Such a simple answer, but it was the only thing he could think of to properly sum everything up. He’d been worried. He’d been hurt. He’d been angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. I…had the ability to help, so I did. Or tried.” He rested his arms on his knees and shook his head, “I’ve failed. _”_

“Geez, don’t be so down on yourself, Ken.” Daisuke scratched his head. He could understand part of the gloomy attitude, but this was going a little _far._ “Takuya’s been itching to go after you guys for days. There’s nothing more we can do here about the crest—I’m sure that jerky-mirror talked to you about it already—so we can all go after Kouji. I’m sure we can catch up with Anyamon too. It’s not your fault Wisetmon decided to abduct you for some one-on-one time without asking.”

“You don’t understand—”

But whatever Ken had been about to say was interrupted by the rush of air, and a sudden blast of heat as Hiryumon dropped out of the sky, the wind kicking the fire from an unhealthy flicker to a blaze. The dragon digimon landed rather clumsily, but given he’d somehow been carrying a struggling digimon that was about half his size, the lack of grace was completely understandable.

Ken scrambled back, Wormmon springing between his partner and the new digimon in a defensive move. “Chill guys, it’s just Flamemon.” Daisuke tried to dispel the tension. Ken gave the dragon a weighing look, before nodding. The easy acceptance startled Daisuke—it had taken him a good amount of spluttering and some time alone to think before he could accept that, not only was Flamemon a human named Takuya, but he could _also_ turn into a dragon whenever he wanted.

Which…now that Daisuke _wasn’t_ sneaking through something out of a nightmare, or being held captive by a too curious mirror digimon…was pretty darned cool. Why couldn’t _he_ turn into a dragon?

“Let me go!” Dorumon snarled, jerking out of Hiryumon’s claws. He didn’t try to run, however, and instead began to adjust his own tiny wings as if he hadn’t just been trying his best to break out, and was here of his own free will. “Now if you’d bothered to _ask,_ instead of snatch, I would have come back with you.”

“You ran off when the mirror appeared. _Why?”_

And not just run off, but completely bolted. The little digimon had been content to come and go, but just…turning tail and _fleeing_ without so much as a word? It was confusing at best, suspicious at worst.

“Why did _you_ stick around?” Dorumon shot back, continuing his preening, “Mirrors are bad omens.”

“Why?” The quick question cut off what Daisuke was about the say. It was Ken. The little dragon’s yellow eyes turned to him, and his nostrils flared in irritation.

“Great. Another one.” Dorumon grumbled, and then louder, “The Mirror abandoned his duty. Everyone knows the story. Except _humans_ apparently.”

“By mirror…Do you mean Wisetmon?” Ken’s eyes were narrowed on the furry dragon, matching his stubborn gaze. Daisuke was surprised. He hadn’t seen Ken like this since…since…

“Who knows. The name was lost a long time ago.” The dragon shrugged, “He was to take Sphinxmon’s place in the Dark Area…He didn’t. He vanished, spouting some nonsense about madness. In the next few years, the corruption first began to show up. It hit non-virus digimon hard. Vaccine-types whithered. Data-types went berserk, leading to friend killing friend. Now there’s none of us left, except for the unlucky sods who fell through after the fact. If Ryuudamon hadn’t learned how to ward, we would have lost them too.” He gave Veemon a pointed stare, the dragon looking away guiltily and stopped fiddling with the bracelet.

Ken’s hand went to the stone around his neck, the motion drawing not only Daisuke’s attention, but Dorumon’s as well, “I see you have met him.”

What…? That black stone was the same as the one around Veemon’s wrist? “You said it doesn’t affect humans!”

Dorumon turned his glare back to Daisuke, “Do I _look_ like I’m an expert on humans? I know its bad for digimon. So I keep digimon away from it. You seemed perfectly fine.”

“Both of you quit it.” Hiryumon had long since digivolved, and Takuya now sat cross-legged behind Dorumon. The purple dragon hrumphed, but didn’t say anything more, crossing his little arms stubbornly. Or attempting to. It was so weird. Dorumon was outright hostile to Daisuke, but he was civil to Takuya. “Obviously there’s some history here, but regardless of omens, the mirror brought Ken here, so that’s a good thing. Only…” He tried to catch Ken’s eyes, but the chosen just looked away, “Where’s Kouichi? You were with him.”

“I was.” Ken shifted, withdrawing a small device from his jacket. Blue and Black. Kouji’s digivice, “There was a fight. We tried to escape. Wisetmon caught me when I fell. Kouichi was alive…but…he’s a good few hours flight east.” He was staring down at the blank screen of the device, knuckles turning white. He suddenly stood up, crossing the distance to Takuya in a flash. He dropped the digivice in the startled boy’s hands.

“He _needs someone._ I made my choice.”

Daisuke could feel the tension as the two squared off, measuring each other. Gone was Ken’s uncertainty. Daisuke had always considered his friend to be strong, if timid. Understandably shaken up since his life was uprooted, turned upside down and shaken so that everything inside was shattered to pieces. But…beneath the quiet exterior had always been an edge of steel. He seemed to have found that now.

“Go after him. Daisuke and I will take care of the world. Go help your friends.”

x-x-x

He felt strage. Too light. The pressure was gone. Keirmon steadied himself against the trunk of a tree, reaching for an even higher branch and digging in his claws.

Another step.

He pulled himself up. He could see grey half-light filtering through the break in the leaves.

Almost there.

His head broke the tree-line, the world opening up around him. Only Keirmon’s innate sense of balance let him stand there, swaying with the branches in the chill wind of the morning. His keen eyes pierced the gloom, searching, searching for the thing he’d barely seen in the dawn’s light. The thing Ken’s orders, and Devidramon’s attack had kept him from persuing.

 _“It is_ folly.” _Ryuudamon warned. “You cannot defeat him.”_

“I don’t _need_ to defeat him.” Keirmon whispered to the memory. He’d been so caught up in the power difference. He could still hear the whispers in the corner of his attention, promising him everything if he would just give in. “ _I don’t need to defeat him._ ”

_I just need to find my brother._

He was done relying on power. It always let him down. What good was power, if it couldn’t protect anyone?

And that thought gave him stability. Something to lean on in the maelstrom of his emotions. The terror. The fear. The anger.

He kept a tight reign on it, refusing to let _anything_ play with his emotions any more. He was tired. He was close to breaking. Snapping, just like the lock had, leaving sharp splinters lying around. Digivolving had been _painful._ But it was something he’d needed to do.

He would need Keirmon’s speed, and his stealth. He _needed_ to find Kouji. If that snapping had been what he thought it was…

If Keirmon’s worst fear came true, _then_ he might give in. He might just break, and let Sphinxmon have the closure he wanted.

But until then, he had to keep it together.

_Kouichi!_

It didn’t echo in the air, but in his mind. There was the buzzing of static.

A thought, and his D-Scanner materialized in his claws, the flickering symbol for fire appearing on the screen.

“I know what you are going to do. _Wait for me.”_ Takuya’s voice came out of the speakers now, “Ken told us what happened. I’m coming.”

_So Ken was okay…_

The ring wasn’t holding him anymore. He’d feared the worst. Keirmon touched the metal band that still circled his upper arm. Was it the distance? He knew it would be child’s play to snap it now. Snap it. Snap it, and with it would go the last link he had.

His claws hovered over the band, thinking back to how much he’d hated how it was holding him back. How it had been stopping him.

But…it had also helped him. Ken’s energies had supported him as he was being torn in three. The Chosen’s support had pushed him further than he could have ever gone himself.

“Kouichi!? C’mon, say something. I know you are there.”

“Sorry Takuya…”

He let his D-Scanner dissolve, returning it to wherever it went while he was in his digimon form. It didn’t cut off the transmission.

_“Kouichi!”_

_I’m done with waiting. Catch up if you can._


	37. The Light's Despair

“ _Oh poor little child.”_

Hikari’s head snapped up at the giggle, the Botamon she’d been playing with letting out a squeak of fright and hiding in the circle of arms. Those little yellow eyes peaked out warily, and Hikari held it to her chest. This was _Primary Village_. There was no way anything here would hurt them.

She’d come here half hoping, half dreading to find Tailmon’s digiegg—she didn’t know what had driven her to this point. She’d stopped in to see Gennai, see if he had any news—any at all. But he hadn’t been home, and she’d just…been drawn here.

She would know if Tailmon…died, right? She would be able to find the egg. Ken had. Patamon had come back for Takeru.

They were playing with some of the other babies, just beyond the building block tower. She’d wandered among the digi-eggs, D-Scanner clenched—hoping, dreading.

But nothing happened. There was no reaction. She’d drooped, both defeated and relieved. She didn’t want Tailmon hurt—but what if they couldn’t get her back any other way? Taichi had _promised…_ but that was before they realized that their last option had been stripped, leaving them with a handful of rookie digimon, and no way to find Angewomon, much less defeat her.

 _“I will take_ good _care of her.”_

Hikari shuddered, the mocking voice threading its way through her mind. “Pweh?”

Something small and soft nudged against her hand. She’d fallen to her knees on the plush ground, and found herself looking down into yellow eyes. It was a Botamon. She recognized it, having seen one oh so long ago, when Agumon came to the Human World to protect them.

“This little guy?” Elecmon had scratched his head, staring intently at the Botamon who’d refused to leave Hikari alone. She’d gone to find the caretaker digimon, where he’d been overseeing the care of roughly a hundred new digieggs. Hikari recognized the area, and it left an ache in her heart.

These were the eggs she and Tailmon had brought back—it felt so long ago now.

“Oh! I know who he is now.” Elecmon scratched the baby digimon behind the two little tufts that looked like ears. Elecmon knew all his babies, “He was the last one to hatch, before this whole drought happened. We were worried about him for a while—Swanmon said his data had been fragmented somehow, and we weren’t sure if it would effect his development—he’s well behind those of his peers. But it’s a good sign that he’s taken a liking to you, he’s been rather skittish.”

So Hikari had let herself get lost playing with the baby—letting all her fear and worry and hurt melt away, just for a little bit.

“ _Poor, poor child. Your kitty-cat has left you behind, hasn’t she?”_

Until _he_ showed up.

Hikari shielded the Botamon protectively, blocking him from the sight of those dangerously sharp eyes. It _had_ to be Kudamon. She recognized the tarnished bullet casing the long weasel-like body was twinned around. She recognized the torn ear, where he’d tried to fit a holy ring, only to have it burn him.

But…he was different.

His body—something she’d thought of as almost ghost-like, white, and fading to transparent, was now nothing more than a moving shadow. The piercing amber eyes reminded her uncomfortably of the jeers of the BlackTailmon, as she’d attempted to drive them away, leaving her partner in a broken heap on the floor.

Even the purple markings were different, now an angry red.

The only things that seemed to remain the same were the golden catridge, and the silver collar around his neck.

“ _…_ Kudamon?”

The black coils writhed, “ _No. Kudamon no longer._ Black _Kudamon now. Thanks to your little kitten. She_ stole _it. The last of Kudamon’s light.”_ Magenta claws lightly touched his torn ear, and then hissed, “ _Liar. Theif. Betrayer. She has even betrayed you now, hasn’t she?”_

“Tailmon did no such thing!” Hikari shot back, clutching the Botamon to her chest, pushing herself off the ground, “She’s been taken _prisoner.”_

 _“Hmph. Some prisoner, living like a queen in the Dark One’s domain. BlackKudamon_ hears _. The dogs are roaming the world, looking for the hidden_ light. _”_ Hikari knew he was trying to get under her skin, but it was working. “ _She is no more prisoner than you, nor I. Face it, you’ve lost your partner. Even now, you reach out for something that is no longer there! The traitor has thrown away her light! Thrown away_ you!”

The words may as well have been physical blows, the Botamon making worried noises as Hikari flinched away. She took a step away from the floating digimon, a step back toward the main of Primary Village. And then stopped. Takeru was there, and Patamon. But so were the _babies._

Tailmon hadn’t wanted to release Kudamon so close to Primary Village.

She shouldn’t lead him into the Village itself, especially now that his fall had been completed.

And his words… _resonated_ with her.

“How do you know…?” The words surprised her, slipping out, her voice shaking, “Why would you say she’d _gone?”_

Not Tailmon. She wouldn’t leave. Not if she had any choice in the matter.

 _I’ll take_ good _care of her._

The constantly shifting coils stilled for a moment.

“ _Your light. It weeps. It mourns. The bond has been broken. It calls. BlackKudamon heard the call. The call of one wounded, cut off from the rest of what they hold dear. BlackKudamon_ understands. _”_

Hikari was shaking as BlackKudamon floated forward slowly, but she didn’t draw away, not even as he draped his long shadowed body across her shoulders, magenta claws teasing at her hair. He wouldn’t harm _her._ She knew that. He’d stopped his attack on Tailmon as soon as he’d seen her. “ _It is why you are here, are you not? A Chosen must have a partner, and yours has been lost. Will you take the Botamon you hold oh so tightly? He is of Fire’s line, not Light. There are not many of us left, your little kitten and her master saw to that.”_

“Us?” Hikari echoed the word. She couldn’t see much of him, but his yellow eyes shone in the sun, made even more piercing by the black-furred face.

“ _Even with his body twisted and dark, BlackKudamon still serves the light. Did you care for the_ traitor _any less when she’d been touched by the dark? Kudamon saw it, that day she_ stole _my ring. The Dark World clung to her—she_ should _have shared my fate.”_

Hikari stiffened as she felt the prickle of claws settle against her neck, kneading gently. It felt…strange. She should be worried. It would take very little pressure to make those points break through skin. But it was so…calming. The motion soothing. “ _How did she do it…? What purified her…? What_ clensed _her of the taint of darkness? Was it you? Was it the child of light? Was it your bond?”_

Everything felt like it was melting away, only BlackKudamon’s voice remained. It didn’t sound…as mad as it once had. Each word seemed more and more stable, as if he was drawing strength from something, “ _That she would throw away such a thing…BlackKudamon would never make such a mistake. The child of light is a thing to be treasured. Protected. BlackKudamon_ will _protect you, if you will have him.”_

Hikari mentally slapped herself, forcibly pulling herself out of the state of relaxation BlackKudamon’s ministrations had left her in. The words almost caught in her throat, but she managed to push them out.

“Nothing will _ever_ replace Tailmon.”

BlackKudamon’s claws froze.

“But…” Hikari looked down into those pained yellow eyes, “I will do what I can to help you. But you have to promise me that you won’t attack anyone. Not unless it’s in self-defense.”

“ _Of course. When did Kudamon ever manace you?”_

“Anyamon.” Hikari caught and held his gaze. He looked away. “Tailmon.”

 _“He was a beast of Darkness! Light is supposed to fight the dark!”_ BlackKudamon hissed, “ _And she a traitor!”_

That had her pause. She hadn’t thought about it—but in the end, Kudamon had been _right._ Anyamon _was_ the Warrior of Darkness. It wasn’t his fault that Anyamon was some sort of _pure_ darkness. Gennai’s explanation had been rather strange.

“Still. _Defense.”_ She warned, “What you did, I _can’t_ forgive you for that.”

Even now she couldn’t, even with her heart aching with every word he’d said. Words that she desperately wanted to deny, wanted to scream to the world that Tailmon wouldn’t leave her. Wouldn’t throw her away like that. She wanted to claim that he was lying.

But something was _missing._ She recognized that something was missing.

Tailmon wouldn’t leave her. But Parasimon would.

 _I’ll take_ good _care of her._

Angewomon didn’t have a choice.

And she would never get Tailmon back moping around like this. BlackKudamon _knew_ about her. If helping him would get her closer to answers, closer to freeing Tailmon…

Plus, he was in pain. Hikari hated seeing anyone in pain.

“Hikari!? Is everything okay?” Takeru had come looking for her. She must seem a funny picture, standing in this plush field, a confused Botamon squirming in her arms, and a ghostly black weasel draped across her neck and shoulders. BlackKudamon’s holy catridge was cold against her skin as she turned to face Takeru’s worried expression. Elecmon and Patamon were at his side, and…Gabumon? What was Gabumon doing here?

Upon seeing Elecmon, the Botamon began to struggle in her grip. She let him down gently, the black baby digimon eating up the distance between them in great bounces. The digimon hopped into Elecmon’s waiting claws, and made some distressed noises and shuddered.

Elecmon’s eyes went wide and he ran, holding the digimon at arms length, heading for the bathroom area.

Hikari couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her, one that was echoed by BlackKudamon’s wheezing laugh.

“Hikari…?” Takeru had taken a step closer. Only to pause and put his hands up placatingly as BlackKudamon picked his head up off her shoulder, rearing up and hissing at him, magenta claws flashing. Hikari gently touched a finger to BlackKudamon’s nose, instantly quieting him. “Be nice.”

“I see you’ve made a new…friend…” Takeru crossed the distance between them, watching BlackKudamon warily.

“His name is BlackKudamon. He came to tell me about Angewomon. And ask for help.”

“Kudamon? Isn’t he the one who _blinded_ Kouji?”

 _“The human should have easily recovered.”_ BlackKudamon hissed, _“You cannot hold_ self-defence _against me.”_

He shot Hikari a look, almost daring her to challenge his classification of the situation. She wouldn’t. It was fair enough.

“He didn’t.” Her response was quiet, “He was still blind two weeks after the incident. We think its permenant.”

BlackKudamon clenched his claws, looking down at his paws, “ _Blinding Radience is only supposed to be_ temporary.”

Supposed to be. But if this transformation to BlackKudamon had begun long before…things changed.

“Do you think you could fix it?”

A shrug, “ _I would have to see the boy.”_

“We can’t trust him, Hikari.” Takeru was eyeing BlackKudamon warily, “We’ve all heard the story, and that was _before._ He’s a dark-type digimon now.”

“ _Oh no, I’m a dark-type. I’m untrustworthy. Evil. But do we care about how BlackKudamon feels?”_ He was baring his teeth at Takeru, “ _Holy Digimon are supposed to keep the dark’s corruption from spreading. That is our duty._ Look at me now.”

“Don’t you talk to Takeru like that!” Patamon took to the air, hovering between his partner and the digimon draped over Hikari’s shoulders. His little paws were curled into fists, “We have enough reason to distrust the darkness as it _is_ without you twisting it all up _.”_

“Enough. All of you.” Hikari shot Takeru a firm glance when he moved to retort _, “I’ve_ decided already. I’m going to help him. If he can help Kouji, so much the better.” And then she turned to Gabumon, who’d been fidgeting throughout the whole thing, Gabumon could be too polite sometimes. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“Yes, thank you.” The digimon sighed, adjusting his coat, “Gennai sent me after you. It isn’t safe here any more. Ceruberumon crossed the border, and he’s looking for the Light. It’d be safer for you in the Human World.”

The Light…

“What of Kouji? Is he safe?” He was who they were really after, afterall. The Warrior of Light. She was insignificant now. He’d been the one to heal Tailmon. He was probably the one who could help BlackKudamon. Gennai sent him into hiding, which means he should be safe and hidden already. “Could you take us to him? I wanted to see if Kudamon could help with the blindness.”

BlackKudamon flinched, his head whirling around to look at her. The use of his old name must have startled him. She gave him a small smile. She wanted to help him be Kudamon again. But Gabumon’s reaction was _strange…_ The request was a long-shot, and she fully expected him to refuse, but…

“Kouji…uh…” Gabumon figeted some more, picking at and then smoothing out the fur of his coat, “He’s…uh…No. Sorry.”

Even Takeru picked up on it. He shot Kudamon a last dirty look, but then focused on Gabumon, “No, you can’t take us to him? Or no he isn’t _safe?”_

The last question shocked Hikari. She hadn’t noticed his refusal to answer her first question. But going over the statement again…that could definitely be inferred from the answer. And Gabumon was much like the rest of their digimon—very bad and uncomfortable when it came to lying.

Gabumon didn’t hold out long. His shoulders slumped, hanging his head in defeat, “...both?”

_He isn’t safe._

None of them had seen Kouji since he left that day. Ken had told them that Kouji and Anyamon had come to help with the rescue. They’d be following shortly.

But…they didn’t come back that night.

The next morning, Gennai had told her—and her alone—that he’d sent Kouji into hiding. To protect the essence. She’d been so tired and distraught; she didn’t think to question it.

_He isn’t safe._

“He isn’t in hiding, is he?”

Hikari words were quiet.

Gabumon shook his head slowly, letting out a heavy sigh, “Gennai told us not to tell you guys. Didn’t want you to worry.”

Parasimon wanted the Light.

Kouji had the Light.

_And Kouji wasn’t safe._

“Tell us, Gabumon.” Takeru’s words were gentle, but Hikari could hear the very real concern building behind them. He might not know about the Essence, but he could tell how worried this whole situation was making her, “Even if he is new, he is one of us.”

 _No, Takeru, no he isn’t._ She wanted to say. _He’s more important than one of us._

But Hikari couldn’t. She’d promised. Instead she just bit her lip and waited. BlackKudamon was watching the proceedings with intensity. And then he spoke.

“ _BlackKudamon heard…a human was captive of the Dark One. Has been, for some time now.”_

“You hear a lot.” Takeru quipped, but then froze at Gabumon’s crestfallen expression, “He’s teeling the _truth?”_

At Gabumon’s nod, Hikari asked gently, “Kudamon…where have you been hearing these? About Angewomon, and the human. Can you travel to the dark place?”

“ _No!”_ BlackKudamon hissed, flinching, “ _BlackKudamon would never touch such a place, not even now! But BlackKudamon is sensitive to the energies from it…He has been following the Dobermon and Cerberumon as they look. As they seek the light. They talk. About the traitor. And the Betrayer. And the prisoner. Humans are novelties.”_

Traitor. That was BlackKudamon’s label for Tailmon, she hated that he was still using it. But one step at a time. This was important. Prisoner was self-explanitory. If they still sought the light, that meant Kouji had managed to hide it before being captured. But there was one more thing. “Betrayer?”

“ _Anubimon. Friend to the Dark One. Betrayer.”_

BlackKudamon nearly spat the name out, bitterness dripping with every word.

Hikari pulled out her D-Terminal, quickly typing up an email. She could see Takeru doing the same thing, “I’ve got Tai, Daisuke, and Miyako.”

“I’ll get Matt, Ken, and Iori then.” Takeru muttered.

They had to get the others together. Even if they couldn’t digivolve—they couldn’t just _leave_ things like that. The only reason they hadn’t done anything yet was because they didn’t have a reason to. They’d been trying to recover. They’d have to figure out something else.

And now that she knew where Angewomon was…

She couldn’t just leave it at that either.

x-x-x

It was rather hard to tell exactly when unconsciousness ended for Kouji. He couldn’t see anything, eyes open or closed, and had to rely on other methods to make sure he had managed to claw his way back. In fact, he suspiciously wondered if he was still dreaming—if it weren’t for the fact that he could see in his dreams. He felt strangely… _not_ in pain. All those aches and twinges and stabs he’d been growing used to since his imprisonment were…mostly gone, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that made his limbs drag like they were made of lead as he shifted, something scraping against the stone floor of the cell as he carefully uncurled his body.

His ankles were aching, and he absently moved to try and massage the feeling back into them.

The resulting spikes of pain were completely unexpected, and he hissed, cutting off a curse before it could echo in this silent cell.

_“Careful…”_ Shadow whispered, he sounded distant. Different. “ _The claws are sharp.”_

_Claws?_ Kouji shot back incredulously, but he wasn’t able to keep the relief from flooding him as he felt the familiar presence buzzing at the edge of his mind. Last he could clearly remember, LordKnightmon had found their entertwinned data. He’d tried to pull Shadow away. But Shadow was _still here._

Shadow’s answer was a memory. Achingly bright with color and _sight_. The digimental of light clutched tightly in gloved hands, claws about two inches long jutted from the glove’s fingers. Those were what had stabbed him. He hadn’t known about them. Blue caught his attention—blue grey fur sticking out in tufts from the lip of the glove. His _arm,_ the memory told him.

_We…digivolved?_

Kouji tugged off one of the gloves, carefully placing it in his lap so he wouldn’t lose it in the darkness. He flexed his now freed fingers. This body didn’t _feel_ as different as Akemon had, he first time. Now that he was looking for it, he noticed the unusual information trickling in through his senses. There was a…stench in the air that left a sour taste in his mouth, and he heard the shuffle of something as it moved. Distantly. Very distantly. But it was there.

He _recognized_ that feeling. It was something he’d once called instinct. He now knew better. It was Shadow’s subtle guiding as he grew accustomed to a new digivolution.

Kouji sighed and went back to his earlier plan, massaging the ache out of his ankles. With the gloves off he would only have to worry about _slightly_ longer than normal nails, and an odd roughness in the palm of his hand. Padded? Like a dog’s paw? The rest of his evolutions were wolf-based. It would make sense. He wondered what his name was now.

He found metal. It was the cause of the pain, biting tightly and pinching even through the tough material his clothes were made of. He probed it in the darkness. A metal ring, a latch on the side, where…chain links were fastened?

A manacle?

A quick check found a matching one on his other leg, and a bit of exploring along the chain’s length led it to a ring set into the stone wall behind him. He remembered that ring, and used it to orient himself in his cell—assuming it was still the same one, or at least the same layout. He built the mental map, finding himself closer to the back of the cell directly in front of the door, rather than off in the corner like he’d preferred before.

It left him feeling oddly…exposed. At least in his corner some of the view was blocked, granting him an, admittedly small, sliver of privacy.

And…it was uncomfotably quiet, despite the shuffling of guards in the distance.

_Shadow?_

His other was silent. Nothing more than a faint hum in the back of his head. A quiet whisper of _all is normal_ while he processed the information from senses Kouji wasn’t quite used to yet.

Kouji felt chilled. It was like the beginning. Before he realized that there was something _distinctly_ different between Akemon and himself. Before he’d broken them apart. He felt…alone in his head. He _knew_ Shadow was there, but he felt… _alone._

_Shadow!_

The humming stopped, and suddenly Kouji found his body moving, but he wasn’t the one doing so. Shadow slipped the gloves back on, and then relaxed, giving control back.

 _“Those are our only weapon.”_ The whisper was quiet, “ _Don’t lose them.”_

_We need to talk._ Kouji grabbed for that presence, shutting out the outside world and pulling them both into their shared mind-space. Once Kouji had always been alone in here. Once, he’d only been able to find this place when spirit evolved. Himself in a black void, surrounded by data. When his entire world became a void, it was easier to blend this place with his perception. Here was where Shadow had begun to retreat with him when LordKnightmon caught them. And here…he was now.

The image before Kouji was an odd one. Before, Shadow had always been the off-colored reflection of himself. Now…he was indistinct. A formless blue-grey humanoid shape, blurred. There were shapes that seemed to indicate pointed ears, but other than that, outlines only became sharp around his arms, torso and some of his pants, and Kouji recognized the black-gloved hands and blue-fur. It was from the _memory_.

_You don’t know what you—we look like, do you?_

Shadow shook his head.

This mind-space was built from their perception. Kouji was always himself even when digivolved. Shadow…Shadow apparently was much more based on their digivolution.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hearing his own words felt strange. When talking to Shadow he normally just used thoughts. But now he felt something more concrete was needed. “After all the time you spent fighting tooth and nail to get me to acknowledge you, now you suddenly back off?”

Silence. Just that half-formed image. Waiting.

“Talk. To. Me.” Kouji snarled, taking a step forward, the worry, concern and frustration boiling up inside him. His fingers clenched into fists, human nails digging into palms. Kouji noticed shadow mimicking the gesture

“I shouldn’t be able to!” The response came back just as harshly, both surprising, and yet not to Kouji. He knew his own temper. “I’m not supposed to be here!”

_“_ That is a load of crap and you know it.” Kouji shot back, “Is _that_ what’s bothering you again? That you aren’t supposed to exist? Well, breaking news, you _do._ And you trying to bury yourself in my subconscious isn’t going to change that fact! I thought we put this behind us when we agreed to work _together._ ”

“And where has that gotten us? Tell me that, oh wise one. LordKnightmon only found me—the spirits— _because_ we are so out of sync. So different. I _splintered_ us. I gave him a chink to pick at.”

“You. Have kept me _sane **.**_ ” Kouji growled, stalking up to the reflection across the way, burying his fingers in the vaguely blue-grey torso. He thought he felt…fur as he pulled the humanoid digimon around when he’d turned away from him, “And you know the truth, I shattered any chance we had of being _normal_ long ago. And I would do it _again_ , even if I knew then what I know now.”

 _He_ had been the one to drive a wedge in their soul, when he couldn’t acknowledge that the other—so new so young so innocent—was _him_. _He_ had been the one to shatter it, by giving Shadow a name. And he didn’t regret a moment of it, except perhaps the pain he’d put his other, his partner, his _friend_ through during those weeks of imprisonment when he’d refused to understand.

Shadow’s clawed glove settled on Kouji’s arm. Gently—Shadow seemed to be more comfortable with those long sharp claws than Kouji had been—he pried off Kouji’s grip. It didn’t help that the fur between his fingers felt almost insubstantial and wispy. Kouji didn’t let him release his hand, and instead twisted his arm, catching Shadow’s wrist in his.

“I’m not going to lose my _friend_ to some misguided sense of guilt.”

Shadow just laughed. It was…an unpleasant sound.It was a desperate sound. One filled with pain and guilt and longing. Kouji could feel the echoes of the emotions around him, thrumming in the void. A sick sense of dread began to rise, pooling in his gut. Was that Shadow? Or was it him? He couldn’t really tell.

“You just _never_ understand. Let me sink into your subconscious, forget this…partnership. Bury me to the point where you forget I exist!”

Kouji frowned, moving to protest, but stopped when Shadow tightened his own grip.

“No. Let me finish! He _broke_ it. Pulling me out like that, he broke the protections the Celestials placed. The lock shattered. We are too different now. Separate. He’ll be able to find us, two different shades of thread in a tapestry of data. Yes, I regret splintering, even if you don’t.Yes, I feel guilty. If I had just let you bury me, instead of fighting…but it’s too late for regrets. The fact of the matter is, I _need_ to hide. And to do that, you need to let me go!”

“Would that really help?” Kouji hissed, teeth clenched, “I remember what he said before I was thrown out. Even without the lock our data is woven together. He snapped the lock, trying to pull the spirits free, yet all he managed was to force us to digivolve. He pulled you forward, throwing me back. That means we are still _connected._ Burying you won’t change that.”

“Even the strongest thread will snap, if pulled hard enough.” Shadow retorted, the vague-earlike shapes flattening against his skull, “And now that he knows, he won’t stop pulling.”

Truth. Kouji could sense it. But there was something else. Worry. Something Kouji had said had set it off. Something Shadow wasn’t telling him. Was trying not to acknowledge.

“What are you _really_ worried about, Shadow?” Kouji asked softly, letting the tension drain out of his voice. Forcing the anger down and away. It wasn’t helping. It was just riling them both up. They would feed off each other—they’d done so before. Kouji had been angry about that other presence, Shadow had been angry about being denied. About being ignored…Which led to arguments. Snarks. It hadn’t been until they’d been too tired to fight anymore that they’d actually started to _listen. “_ Those sound like excuses. Like you are trying to avoid a completely different problem.”

“Pulling me forward…shouldn’t have knocked you back…” It was almost a whisper. “Not that far. I couldn’t…find you. I worried…”

Something else echoed in the sudden silence. Not Shadow’s voice. Not Kouji’s. A memory of a voice Kouji only vaguely remembered, having been half-concious at the time he’d heard it. When he’d been brought to LordKnightmon. Claws digging into his shoulder, forcing him down on the stone floor even as he’d tried to rise.

_“I wonder…what would happen if you **died**?”_

“ _Could a human soul subsist on data alone?”_

“It made me wonder…Would I even notice if you were gone? Would I just…take over? I’m a digimon. We don’t die. Not really. But humans are different.”Shadow was fuzzing. Trying to fade,“I—I remember losing ‘nii-san. You remember that. We will never forget it. That pain. The hollow empty place in your chest, trying to suck everything else in so it wouldn’t hurt anymore…”

_I don’t…want to lose you._

“It _shouldn’t_ be like that.” Shadow put his free glove to his head, releasing his grip on Kouji’s arm, “I was created _from_ you. I was supposed to _be_ you, so the Digital World would be protected while you six lived normal lives. You saw Flamemon—he was completely independent of his human. That is how we _should_ be.”

_But…I don’t want that anymore._

Shadow’s emotions thrummed around them. Confusion. Some of that was Kouji’s leaking out there, he was sure. Shadow sounded so lost. So…young. He was shaking. Kouji always forgot that, really, Shadow was much younger than he was. Awkwardly, Kouji released Shadow’s wrist, and then, before he could second guess himself, pulled him into a tight hug. Shadow was shorter than Kouji was. Just by a little.

The digimon tensed—a reaction Kouji expected. He wasn’t good with physical expressions like this either. “I _won’t_ let it be like that again.”

Just a quick as the hug had been, Kouji released him, crossing his arms stubbornly, “I told you, I refuse to lose my friend. Whether that’s to LordKnightmon or to whatever it is we should be. You are my _partner._ You’ve protected me. You’ve kept me sane, even after how I treated you. I refuse to bury you, and I refuse to let you bury yourself.”

A snort. “Stubborn idiot.”

Kouji smirked.

As if the timing could be any worse, a much hated voice echoed through the darkness, coming not from within their memory, like the last one, but from outside. Kouji felt Shadow flicker, could feel himself being pushed back toward reality, losing focus on the mental construct that personified his partner.

_“Well, well, having a nice little nap now, are we?”_

He forced himself to be confident. Shadow would be able to feel if he were faking it. Kouji tightened his grip on that other presence.

_He knows the spirits are here. Hiding won’t help. The only thing we can do is **hold on.**_

_And that is easier with two hands, rather than one._

Hesitantly, Shadow surged forward, settling himself around Kouji’s spirit like a warm cloak. Their body felt heavy around him, the weight of exhaustion forgotten while they had been in that place. Kouji forced his eyes open, not expecting much of a difference, only to find his breath catch, the distinct image of the Digimental of Light glittering in the shadowed palm of the dark shape standing before them. LordKnightmon was barely more than a sihoulette that seemed to blend into the darkness of the void surrounding him.

“ _I told you he would try.”_

Kouji forced himself to his feet, the chains clattering as his movements dragged them across the stone floor. LordKnightmon laughed as Kouji brandished his claws threateningly.

“So sorry to wake you.” He purred, stalking closer and grabbing one hand in a crushing grip. Fangs sank into Kouji’s lip as he stopped himself from crying out in pain, turning it into a grunt instead. “But we need to begin untangling that data of yours. It will be _delicate_ work, I do hope you will be patient with me, little Warrior of Light. We shall free you from this... _filth_ soon enough.”

Both Kouji and Shadow were in unison as Storabimon just snarled at him.

They were never going to let go.


	38. A Sovereign's Sacrifice

Gennai just wanted to sit down. He was getting too old for this, leaving his comfortable home behind and gallivanting about. He stretched and cracked his back, trying to ease the phantom ache that was killing him. He’d spent faaaar too long as an old man, and even with his younger form restored he still _felt_ aged and worn even if he didn’t look it. It was a mind-set, and all the worrying he’d been doing didn’t help with his stress levels.

Gennai sighed heavily, glancing up, and over the grasses. The good thing about his younger form was that he was much, much taller. If he’d still been the stumpy old man he was used to…well, he would have been far too short to see over the field of golden grasses. As it was he could see the grey stone drawing ever closer. He knew this area better than most, but if he wasn’t careful even he would get lost.

This area was special. There was a reason he’d moved his home after the defeat of the Dark Masters. Only part of it was that he’d been tired of looking out the window to see fish swimming idly by, or the Gomamon who liked to play pranks and make faces up against the glass. Only part of it was that he missed seeing the sky, feeling the wind. Only part of it was that he no longer needed to hide.

But mostly, it was for a single grey stone, located an hour’s walk from the lake.

He pushed through the grass at length, stepping out into the open space surrounding the stone. He tilted his head, taking in the great bulk of the towering pullar of rock.

The Gaurdian Stone.

The Doorway.

The Nexus.

He wasn’t as nimble as he once was, even with his youth restored, but Gennai managed the climb, hands and feet finding purchase in the weathered sides. Hand and foot holds that vanished after he used them, he knew, fading back into the indistinct grey.

The top was remarkably flat, more than large enough for him to settle comfortably, easing his aching bones to the cool stone, looking out over the rolling fields of gold, rippling in the breeze. In one direction were the indistinct haze of purple mountains—the other, a forest, one which he knew was hiding the sparkling lake where he made his home.

Gennai captured the scene in his mind, even down to the puffs of cloud drifting across the sky. Then he closed his eyes to block the sun, the warmth still blanketing his skin.

In his mind’s eye, he could still see the landscape spreading out before him, but it was different. Streams of data blanketed the sky, sad little trickles where a roaring river should be. Parched, cut off from its sources.

Before a few months ago, he had never seen this level of deprivation, the sad little rivulets fighting to supply the energy the world needed to function. To keep calculating. To keep growing.

The network was failing. It was only a matter of time now.

The air shimmered before him, a stream of data answering his call, stretching down, down, looping and curling amongst itself, almost serpentine in its motions.

The heat from the sun faded, and Gennai knew his request had been answered.

He let go of the network, letting it fade. He opened his eyes, taking in the flickering image before him. Great transparent coils of cloud blanketed the sky, forming the body of an enormous chain-wrapped dragon, his great blue and gold head hovered before the stone.

“It isn’t looking too good.” Gennai said quietly, watching the image of Qinglongmon shudder, fuzzing in and out. A snort sent the dragon’s mustasche and beard dancing in the wind.

_“We’ve relied on their gifts for too long. The network is unstable without it. Even my support is barely enough.”_

“What of the other Sovereigns? Couldn’t they ease your burden?”

“ _They are supporting their own regions. Indeed, Zhuquomon claims this whole mess is my responsibility, since I ‘kept’ them all together in the east instead of spreading them around.”_

_“_ Why did you?” That was one thing Gennai’s research never could figure out. He’d been a low ranking worker, stationed in the lab created to study evolution. He hadn’t been privy to any of the information before his creation, except from what he’d been able to dig up since this whole mess started. But even _he_ could see the issues with this set-up—placing seven of the eight so close together. They were _lucky_ the knowledge of the Sanctums had been lost, hidden behind the legends of the crests. If Etamon, Vamdemon, or godsforbid the Dark Masters had thought to look beyond the cover story…the crests… Even _he_ hadn’t known about it until Gennai started to do research on the Crests to release the sovereigns, and that was just the barest minimum.

“ _They did not wish to be apart. Who am I to separate them?”_

Qinglongmon’s voice sounded _old._ Old and worn. This was the first time he’d been able to speak to Qinglongmon since the Sanctum of Light went offline. The first time since the structures supporting the network had failed completely, leaving the burden on the Sovriegn alone…

The Sanctums. So far he’d managed to work out their connection to the Crests, and their connection to the network…but he still didn’t _know._

He still didn’t know what they _were_.

The Sovereigns were likely the only ones who knew the full story. And Anubimon, once head of an order of holy digimon, knew of their existence—he was mentioned in the texts as having helped with the structures and networking. Other than that, the only mentions Gennai could find were deep in the Order’s databases—a request from the Sovereigns for nine machines to form the support network, to house artefacts that had been only known as Essences. Only eight of which were ever completed.

Essences of what, hadn’t been stated. The Legend for the Crests weren’t mentioned at all in the old texts.

And the Virtues…Gennai remembered _selecting_ the Virtues, all those years ago. Gennai remembered his colleagues finding those eight special children, that day—only a short decade ago in the human world—a millennia ago in the digital world—and taking the strongest virtue of each. They were to be keys, he remembered. But keys to _what?_ Digivolution? And what of Kindness? Gennai’s order didn’t make the nineth crest. He hadn’t even known it existed.

_“_ What were they?” Gennai mumbled, more to himself than a question. He didn’t think Qinglongmon would answer him. “What was there before the Sanctums?”

“ _Before…?”_ Qinglongmon almost sounded…wistful, “ _Before…they were our children.”_

Children…? But all digimon were technically the Sovereign’s children.

_“They did not wish to be apart.”_

There were Nine Crests.

Nine Machines were made.

But only Eight completed.

But there were…ten…digimentals.

Each Digimental had a Crest. Each Crest had a Sanctum. Except…Kindness.

If the order didn’t create Kindness—whose to say there wasn’t a tenth out there? Miracles?

Or should have been.

_Ten…_

_Ten Digimon._

_One was killed._

_One vanished._

_Eight remained._

It was an old, old legend. One whose only record was destroyed with File Island.

“If they chose…” Gennai began slowly, piecing it together, “Then why was Light in the Dark Area?”

If it wasn’t the Order who chose…

“ _Why…? To guide the lost one home.”_

…Damn. He didn’t want to be right. _Patterns._ That settled it. Gennai should have heeded Qinglongmon’s warnings. The dragon had originally wanted the Warriors to take care of this alone. There was no way they could let the other children back into this mess.

Qinglongmon’s image fuzzed, breaking up like an analogue television image in a storm. Gennai pulled himself out of his racing thoughts—he only had a limited amount of time. If Qinglongmon was indeed the one supporting the network right now, every moment he remained here was taxing him even further. “Is there something you wanted from me, Qinglongmon?”

He’d been the one summoned, after all. He knew better than to think he had a right to demand an audience with the Sovereign without gaining permission.

“ _I have been watching the children.They seek to activate the Sanctum of Kindness.”_

Nine machines. One was never completed.

 _Because one vanished…_ The nagging thought whispered through his mind. He shook it off, “How? _Where—“_ And then he stopped. The where was obvious. Where else were the children?

“ _How doesn’t matter. The fact is, Anubimon will know the moment they do. He carefully watches the data flows.”_

“What can we do?”

Something shimmered in Qinglongmon’s claws. Gennai’s breath caught in his throat. Three sky blue orbs rotated about each of Qinglongmon’s claws. One detached itself from the others, floating gently down towards Gennai. It settled in his outstretched hands.

The glass-like sphere was heavy in his arms, something glimmered from within, and if Gennai looked he would be able to see the data-bits locked within the depths. He admired it for a moment, but a sharp cry of pain caught his attention.

The image of Qinglongmon was going crazy—fritzing out. The dragon was writhing in pain.

“ _I can’t—hold it— Go. The crests of Hope and Light freed me, I return the power. It should feel—”_ Qinglongmon hissed, fading, “— _like an essence. Use it to draw the hunters away. Buy them_ time.”

And then he was gone.

Gennai clutched the orb—feeling it humming in his hands. This. This was a kingly gift. Godly even. A portion of the Sovereign’s power rested innocently in his possession. This was dangerous. Even before his gift—this Digi-Core—Qinglongmon had been struggling to keep the network stable. Now…

A distant howl set Gennai’s heart beating furiously, pulling the digi-core protectively against his chest. Smoke was rising in the distance.

Fire. The grasses were on fire.

But it wasn’t natural fire. It was g _reen._ Demon fire.

The howls were coming closer as Gennai struggled to climb down from the Guardian Stone, only able to use one hand on the way down. He jumped the last few feet, his knees aching and throbbing from the impact. He couldn’t stop to worry about them though, as something dog-like and snarling jumped out of the grass behind him. Gennai didn’t even bother to look.

He _ran._

_x-x-x_

“I have news.” Anubimon. It had to be Anubimon. Only he would dare enter this hall.

LordKnightmon turned reluctantly away from admiring his almost complete collection, although these days he tended to do less admiring and more stewing on the glaring holes marring the perfection. Even without looking at them, they still burned in his mind. Only eight statues, each with a colored orb clasped in stone claws, the matching digimental placed at their feet. It felt… _wrong._ There should be ten.

There _were_ ten digimentals, even if he only had eight in his possession.

He shook off the notion, carried over from his home world. These…so-called Crests were not the Elements, even if there appeared to be similarities between them. This world had rejected its darkness, locking it away in this small space, leaving it to fester and grow. His home had _accepted_ its darkness, realizing that you needed _balance_ to create order.

It had been a beautiful system. And then the Celestials betrayed his master. Sealed the Knights away. Without Lucemon’s firm hand, and his peacekeepers, was it any wonder that it had fallen into chaos?

That was one thing he planned to rectify in this world. Darkness had its place. He would make one for it. The child-emporer held a great darkness. A seed, planted long ago, nurtured in hatred and cruelty. He could use that to balance the forces.

But for balance, he needed to get his hands on Light. It was the only statue whos claws were empty.

That _infuriating_ boy.

LordKnightmon let out a carefully controlled exhale, releasing the anger the thought had triggered in him. No matter. He wasn’t sure if he could substitute the spirits for the Essence, but at least he consoled himself that he would finally be able to rid himself of the human once he successfully removed the data he wanted.

_Control the forces, and you control the world._

Anubimon’s words came back to him, the promise the jackal-headed digimon had given him when they’d first met, years ago, when the god-man digimon had caught his tortured soul, cast out by the death of a god.

That very digimon stood before him now, waiting patiently in the door to the room. LordKnightmon composed himself, grateful—and not for the first time—that he had a helmet to hide behind unlike other digimon. No one would see an ugly expression that reflected ugly thoughts, only serene calm, nobility, and beauty. “Yes? Have you made progress?”

“Of sorts.” The winged digimon responded calmly, “My trackers have picked up on the Light’s signature. But they do not have the means to persue it, not in enough time to do anything productive.”

Time. They had all the time in the _world._ LordKnighmon sniffed, “Where has it gone that you can do nothing? You assured me your hounds can travel anywhere within the digital world.”

“The Digital World…yes.” Anubimon inclined his head, “But not the Human World. Not even I may go there. Not without specific circumstances. My trackers persued the energy to one of the children’s…gates. And then nothing. The network shudders with its passing. I did not think they would be foolish enough to remove it completely.

“The Human World…” He mused. Once, he and Dynasmon had aspired to rule it. A boon, to be granted for…services rendered. Now, however, he had the Digital World by the throat. _He_ did. Not Lucemon. As much as he…respected his master, being the ones to hold the reigns of power was _glorious._

The Human World meant nothing to him in face of that. What good was a place full of those digusting meatbags? They had no place in the world of digimon.

But…he might have to deal with it if they sought to hide the essence there. He did not believe he would be able to cross the worlds if Anubimon could not. But…he knew of one who could.

One who’d told him of a human’s ambition.

“Summon ParaAngewomon. Tell her I have a job for her at last.”


	39. All the Things We've Missed

The group wasn’t complete. Miyako was over there, sitting cross-legged on Hikari’s bed. Hikari frowned when she remembered meeting Miyako and Poromon at the door, Iori and Upamon at her side. She’d immediately picked out the differences. Miyako’s arm was in a sling, and a bandage peaked out from beneath her woolen hat. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh. This?” She picked at the edge of the cloth, “I just took a fall a few days ago, no big. Mom wants me to keep it on for a little longer. It’s kind of irritating actually.”

“You scared us, Miyako.” Iori said quietly, pushing inside, “Even my mom was worried when I convinced her I wasn’t making it up.”

“Why would she think you would?” Hikari was confused. Miyako and Iori were old, close friends from what she could tell. She watched them share frustrated looks and Miyako shook her head, “It’s a long story. So what’s with the emergency meeting?”

“Well…let’s wait for the others.”

But the others didn’t come. Takeru had come with her, Taichi was already here. Izzy wouldn’t respond to their emails. Neither would Ken. Or Daisuke. Hikari had even tried calling Daisuke’s home—he’d given her the number long, loooong ago when he’d first started to pursue her—only to get his sister squealing over the fact that a _girl_ was calling for him, and then told that he hadn’t been home for a few days; Yamato had called saying he’d been hanging out with Ken this weekend.

Gabumon had been the one to know about Kouji. Could Yamato know something too? He had gone with Ken and Kouji that night.

“Did you manage to get a hold of your brother, TK?” Hikari asked, swiveling her chair to face Takeru. He was sitting on the floor, Patamon peering down at the D-Terminal in his hands from his perch on Takeru’s head. He looked up, “Yeah, he’s at rehearsal. He’ll be here when he can.”

“Man, Yamato spends a lot of time practicing.” Taichi leaned back against the wall, hands behind his head, “We hardly ever see him anymore.”

“Don’t you see him at school? You guys go to the same one.” Miyako asked curiously—she and Iori didn’t get as much contact with the elder Chosen, and Yamato was one of the more distant of the local ones. Only Jou was worse, being out of town half the year for school.

“Well yeah, but we aren’t in the same classes. I see Sora more than I see Yamato.”

“I’m more worried about Daisuke and Ken.” Iori spoke up quietly, “I know Ken likes to be alone, but he doesn’t usually ignore emails. And Daisuke _never_ ignores anything from Hikari.”

“He wasn’t in school Friday, either.” Takeru added, and Hikari found herself nodding, “Thursday too. I remember he brought Chibimon the entire week until then—he tried to get us to go to the Digital World with him after school.”

Hikari felt guilty—she should have noticed. But…she’d been so wrapped up in everything that she hadn’t noticed Daisuke until he was gone. Even then, she’d just assumed he stayed home sick. Had been relieved even.

“He asked me the same on Wednesday.” Miyako moved her hand, inching toward the arm in the sling. Poromon nudged her hand, giving it a quick nip with his beak. Miyako flushed and pulled it away, adjusting her glasses, “I ran into him on his way to the computer room. He said he was going to bug Gennai about Ken again. I told him to give it a rest—that Ken just needed some time. That was…” Her breath caught, and she looked away, “Is still a hard memory for us, and we didn’t have to…fight her. He did.”

“Jun said Daisuke was with Ken, though…” Hikari frowned, “And why would he have to go to the Digital World to bother _Gennai_ about _Ken?”_

Gennai had been hiding Kouji’s situation from them. What _else_ was he hiding?

…She didn’t see Ken that morning. _Gennai_ was the one to say he went home. It was plausible enough, given he was rather withdrawn…but…If Gennai had lied about one thing…

She…couldn’t remember much of that day. Not much beyond the guilt, and denial, and the aching _hole_ in her heart and at her side. She’d let herself get lost in her brother’s protective shield, and just…ignored everything else.

Her hands cleched, the metal ridges of the tarnished bullet digging into her palms. She forced herself to relax. “Did anyone see Ken the morning…after?”

One by one she looked at them; one by one they shook their heads. Taichi was the only one to hesitantly shrug, “I…stayed up most of the night. I remember looking at the clock sometime after midnight, cause I heard a door slamming. Shortly after he and Ken came back into the room, arguing quietly about something. Ken left again after that.” Taichi shook his head at promptings for more details, “Sorry—I didn’t follow. I was…a little tied up at the time.”

He’d been busy holding her. Everything was her fault, wasn’t it?

“He could have just gone home then…” Takeru mused to himself, and then louder, “Miyako—I know you have his home phone—” She blushed and sputtered a denial, but it was a weak one, earning a questioning eyebrow from Iori. She muttered something about ‘Digimon Kaiser’ and ‘research purposes’ that led Hikari to giggling before Takeru continued, “Could you see if he’s there?”

“Fine.” Still blushing, Miyako fumbled with her purse, muttering at the difficulty she had unzipping it with one hand. Iori came to her rescue, pulling the bag out of her grasp, and fishing out the red phone before Miyako ripped it open in frustration. She stalked out of the room, scrolling through the contacts as she went.

Hikari watched her go, her smile fading as the light-hearted-ness brought on by Miyako’s embarrassment fled, smothered under her growing anxiety at the situation that was unfolding before them. Not only had Kouji been kidnapped and the knowledge kept from them, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that they’d missed something very important regarding their two other teammates as well.

They _trusted_ Gennai. After so many years—why would they think to doubt him now? It didn’t sit right with Hikari. It made her stomach churn. She’d _lied_ because he’d asked her to. Lied because she’d trusted him, trusted that it was the right thing to do. Did her promise still hold if _he_ was lying to her?

Her train of thought was derailed by the door opening again, Miyako—no longer dusted liberally with pink blush—re-entered the room, her expression troubled. Hikari could literally feel her heart sinking to her toes. She knew what Miyako was going to say before she did so.

“Ken never came home.” Miyako explained slowly, “He left that night saying he had to help Takeru with a project. He hasn’t been in school, or home since. His mom called your brother, Takeru, since he’d been the one to call Ken that night. He told her not to worry, but nothing more. The only reason she hasn’t called the cops yet is because she trusts Ken to come home again.”

_Yamato. Again._

“Hikari…” Miyako was the one to speak, but Hikari could feel all their eyes turn to her, “What’s going on?”

Ken had the Digimental of Friendship. He and Wormmon were the only ones who could digivolve.

“Ken went after him…didn’t he?” She saw the realization dawning on Takeru, her friend shaking his head in wonder.

“Hikari!” Miyako was getting exasperated, “Just tell us. From the sounds of things, Yamato already knows, and the others won’t be coming. Just spit it out already.”

Metal was growing warm in her clenched hands, suddenly yanking her attention toward it. No! She had told him to stay out of sight for now. “Stop.” She hissed, quietly as she could. But Miyako heard it, and stepped closer. Even Taichi was frowning now. Her brother had been content to lean against the door and just watch, but now… “Hikari…?”

“ _Oh, don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”_ The words echoed through the room. Darkness wreathed her hands, stopping Miyako in her tracks. BlackKudamon was still transparent, coiled possessively about her wrists, which still held onto his holy cartridge. His yellow eyes were the only color amongst the black shadow that was his body, _“One friend lost, stolen by the Traitor and her master. Another off to rescue him, all alone, because he alone could do so. A third, powerless, but the only one to notice the disappearance, the only one not wrapped up in self-pity and useless guilt. Am I wrong?”_

Those eyes were staring up at her. The question resounding through her mind. Hikari closed her eyes, not wanting to see the recognition sparking in Miyako’s eyes. Or the confusion in Iori’s. Or the way Takeru looked away from BlackKudamon uncomfortably. Or the way Taichi had pushed himself away from the wall at BlackKudamon’s appearance, fear—fear for _her_ written all over his face and posture. Only her apparent nonchalance stopped him acting. He trusted her. She would always be his _baby_ sister, but he _trusted_ her.

“No.” She whispered to the darkness behind her eyelids. “You aren’t wrong.”

He had such a negative way of saying it. But he was completely right. And Hikari needed that right now.

x-x-x

“ _You!”_ Miyako hissed the word out through clenched teeth, “What are you doing here?”

“ _Yesssss. Me.”_ She didn’t quite know how she knew it, but she did. Black or not, that was the little rodent that had attacked them in Vamdemon’s castle. She would recognize that mocking, half-mad voice anywhere. He was becoming more distinct, red patterns fading in amonst the black coils holding Hikari captive. Why was she taking this so calmly? That thing was a _menace._

Her arm ached uncomfortably, memories of that day awakening the phantom pain from bite-marks. It hadn’t been Kudamon who bit her, but she held a special dislike for anything related to what happened in that castle. That Kudamon had hurt Tailmon—and by proxy Hikari—and Kouji—who was actually a decent guy and someone-she-should-have-listened-to—and Anyamon—who had saved her _life—_ elevated it from dislike almost close to loathing.

She reached out for the digimon with her free arm, intent on ripping the digimon away from her friend. Magenta claws flashed—Poromon squeaked a “Miyako” and dashed forward, moving to intercept the strike—

“Stop it, both of you.”

Hikari’s voice was cold. Her eyes still closed. Miyako froze, and to her surprise, so did the weasel. Those claws were mere centimeters from digging into Poromon, who had closed his eyes in preparation of the strike, hovering between them.

Miyako snagged Poromon out of the air and took two steps back. Hikari had opened her eyes, giving the digimon a stern look, “What did I tell you?”

“ _It was self defence!”_ The rat hissed. Not even a rat, Miyako decided. A snake. It was a snake over there curled around her friend’s hands.Surprisingly, his defiant posture wavered as Hikari continued her admonishing stare, and he sank back down, resting his pointed head on her hand obediently. Hikari then turned her attention back to the rest of the room. Takeru was the only one not frightened by the appearance of the digimon—had he known?

“This, is BlackKudamon.” Hikari began, “He is—”

“ _—her partner.”_ The weasel cut in, yellow eyes flashing dangerously. Hikari froze and looked down at him again.

“You overreach there, Kudamon. Remember what we talked about. ”

Her voice was quiet, but the digimon flinched, unable to hold her stare very long, “ _I feel your light. You feel the connection too. You_ accepted _me.”_

She did _what?_

_“_ What about Tailmon?” Miyako blurted out, too shocked to think it might best not be spoken. She didn’t know you could just… _change_ partners like that. And why in the name of all that is good in the world would she choose that snake?

“ _Foolisssh girl.”_ The moment it wasn’t Hikari he was talking too, he regained his haughty attitude, _“The Traitor has let go, even if Hikari has not.”_

“I agreed to help you.” Hikari said, gently, but firmly to the bristling digmon, “But I will never give up on Tailmon.”

He let out a long drawn out hiss, just like the snake he was. Hikari gave him one last look before turning back to Miyako and Iori, “Even if he said it rather…strangely, BlackKudamon does seem to be correct. Kouji has been held captive in the…dark world since…that day. Ken went to try and rescue him. Daisuke went after Ken.”

Miyako shuddered at the memory of that strange world. She’d been the least affected of the three, but she remembered the way that monochrome world had wore on Hikari, breaking down the image of perfection she’d held of her friend. How it had showed her how fragile Hikari really was behind her strength. Ken hadn’t been much better—actually, he’d been the worst. Fully breaking down. What would posses him to go _alone?_

“We can’t trust anything he says!” Didn’t Hikari see what he was trying to do? He was trying to poison her, poison her with those same words that drove him mad. He was trying to turn her away from Tailmon—the ultimate form of revenge. He was trying to steal her from someone he hated with every fibre of that dark-infested being. He was going to try and drag her back to that dark place—just like the rest.

She winced as a sharp pang of pain rushed through her arm, her other hand automatically clutching it in alarm. Poromon twittered at her, reminding her not to scratch it.

But it didn’t itch. It hurt. It hurt and she didn’t understand why. Her fingers dug into the fabric of the sling, Miyako nearly biting her lip in response to the pain, “He could be lying. He could be lying about the whole thing.”

“ _How **dare** you say that!”_ Oh look, she’d offended the weasel. It bared tiny white fangs at her, yellow eyes smouldering, “ _BlackKudamon does not **lie.**_ **”**

“And why should we trust _you?”_ She shot back, “How convenient that you come with news, at the very moment we are recovering from a hard fight. For all we know you are here to distract us, maybe even lead us into a trap—”

“Miyako! Enough!” Miyako huffed, sitting back down on the bed beside Iori, struggling to fight back the sticky blackness that was her anger. Her frustration. Hikari was standing now, the snake having curled up around her arm, pointed face hovering over her shoulder like some ominous shadow. “Takeru and I already had this conversation. Kudamon’s story is supported by Gabumon—the important details are that Kouji _has_ been prisoner for far too long. That Ken and Anyamon went after him right away. We won’t know what happened with Daisuke for sure until we can talk to Yamato—”

“I’ll save you the confusion.” A tired, but cool voice cut through the sudden silence, Hikari had stopped talking in mid-sentence as the door to the room swung open. The shadow retreating to the tarnished metal clenched in Hikari’s white-knuckled grip. Miyako shifted, craning her neck to see Yamato’s stylishly disshelved appearance. He was leaning against the door, Hikari’s mother hovering worriedly behind him.

“Yamato! Man, we’ve been waiting for you!” Taichi immediately vacated his position near the door, stepping over to his old friend and clapping him on the shoulder, “Go on in, the kids have some questions for you. Hey mom, think we can get some snacks…? I think Miyako’s starving—she gets irritated when she’s hungry…”

The last line had Miyako’s temper flaring again at the conspiratorial whisper, but Taichi shot her a warning look as he ushered his mother away from the room, wondering loudly about what kind of snacks they had—and wasn’t it almost dinner time anyway?

Yamato stepped through the portal, pulling the door closed behind him. “We could hear you yelling in the hallway.” The blonde remarked casually, making Miyako flush with embarrassment. Had she really been that loud? “I kind of doubt you guys want Ms. Yagami to know a couple of your friends are missing. The last thing we need is them remembering Vamdemon.”

“Nii-san.” Takeru’s voice was quiet, but it still pierced the sudden exhausted silence. “Why didn’t you _tell us?_ ”

“What would you have done?” Yamato ran a hand through his heavy golden bangs, he looked so _tired._ Worn. “Ken and Daisuke managed to find help. They are the only ones who _can_ help right now. You guys won’t even be able to follow them—Gennai had to call in a big favor to get Daisuke and Flamemon there as it was.”

“We could have gone with them. Kouji came back for _us._ It is only fair that we do the same.” Iori’s statements were said in that same soft tone he always used, but his eyes were hard.

“You were under house arrest.” The older Chosen responded dryly, “Miyako, you ended up in the hospital. As for my little brother and ‘Kari…” His blues eyes lingered on them before shaking his head, “No. There is a reason you didn’t notice until now. None of you were in any shape to help them.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t now.” Takeru stood up suddenly, turning to face his brother squarely, his statement prompting Hikari to add hesitantly, “I’m…sure I could get back there. I have before.”

“Do that…and you undermine…everything I’ve just…done.”

The exhausted voice drew eight sets of eyes to the back of the room, to a tall robed figure slumped weakly against the desk. Breath caught in nearly every throat, Miyako immediately noticing the charred appearance of the normally off-white robes. He had some sort of blue ball clutched in his arms. The computer on the desk was glowing—had it been on before? Sleeping maybe?—the digiport program sitting innocently in the window. But where the image from the last used gate normally was, there was nothing but static, the status indicator an ugly, glaring red.

“What happened Gennai?” Yamato was the only one to keep his head, the others, Miyako included, were doing rather impressive fish impressions “You’ve _never_ come here before.”

“Well…” The older man coughed, “Circumstances indicated we needed a diversion. So I made one. The result was that I had to run as if the hounds of hell were on my heels, quite literally.”

Miyako flinched, remembering slobbering jaws, three heads—or one head and two armored ones—and green fire. Sharp, dagger like teeth clamping down on her arm, ripping, tearing, spilling her blood across the stone floors. Her fingers dug into the layer of fabric surrounding her throbbing arm.

Patamon leapt from Takeru’s head abruptly, hovering across the room toward Gennai. His wide blue eyes were transfixed by the orb clutched tightly in Gennai’s arms, one small paw reaching out to touch it—

“Not yet, young one.” Gennai deflected the flying digimon, leaving Patamon to hover confused in the air until Takeru took him back into his arms. The boy did so hesitantly, looking between Patamon and Gennai, “What’s the matter, Patamon?”

“I can feel it.” Patamon blinked, dazed, “It…feels…familiar?”

“ _I too, flying one.”_ Miyako forced herself to relax at BlackKudamon’s voice, the snake’s shadowed body uncoiling from the casing in Hikari’s hands. His long body curled around Hikari’s hand, foreclaws crossed, and head swaying uncertainly, “ _It feelssssssss…holy. Like the blessed sunlight for one locked in shadow for ssssssssso long.”_

Miyako glared at him, she could see the longing in his eyes. Could hear the hunger in his voice. He started to reach for it himself, but then…hesitated?

“This…is a Digi-Core. You could consider it a digimon’s soul. The source of its power.” Gennai held the blue orb reverently, giving BlackKudamon a curious look before dismissing him.

“Who’s…who’s is it?” The pain and _fear_ in Hikari’s voice told Miyako where her friend’s thoughts had gone. What conclusion she had jumped to.

“ _Do not fret, bright one, it isn’t the_ Traitor. _”_ The comforting croon was ruined by the venom dripping from the final word, “ _It is far too pure to be_ her.”

The statement snapped Gennai out of his reverie. He shook his head, pushing himself away from the desk and setting the large blue object on a clear-spot next to the computer, “Your…friend is correct. Angewomon is still alive and well, last I heard. This is…a special Digi-Core. You all remember Qinglongmon, I presume?”

At hesitant nods, he continued, “Qinglongmon has been both supporting and watching over the Digital World since the Sanctums began failing. He had been tracking Anubimon’s forces, and decided to draw them out of the Dark Realm to clear the way for the others.” His hand hovered over the sphere his hands, but his eyes went from Takeru, to Hikari, “This…is the power of Hope and Light… The power of the Crests that you two used to free him, years ago. Anubimon’s dogs felt it, and it is enough like the Essence of Light that they were on it like a Gomamon on a bad joke.”

Upamon snickered, but no one else laughed.

“ _A gift from the godssssss.”_ BlackKudamon hissed, breaking the silence. Iori shifted uncomfortably beside Miyako, shooting the living shadow a worried glance, “If it is like the Essence…could we use it to digivolve?”

“Yeah!” Miyako caught onto that thread of thought, “If we can digivolve, then couldn’t we just beat up Anubimon and his goons and rescue Kouji? Instead of this weird diversionary tactic?”

“No!” Gennai’s voice booked no argument, “I locked the gate behind me. No one will be returning to the digital world until this is over. I cannot risk the Sovereign’s power falling into their hands. The Warriors will finish this battle. Alone. We have done what we can.”


	40. Inconspicuous

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Ken’s fists clenched, trust Daisuke to find the one chink in his resolve and pick at it. He’d had plenty of time to decide while talking with Wisetmon. This was the best option. He’d held Kouichi back long enough. Besides…what Wisetmon had shown him…

Maybe in the end he could help. But right now he had a job to do. He was a CHOSEN of the Digital World. He had a responsibility. Wisetmon’s claims aside, his responsibility was to saving this world if he could.

Given how Takuya had cursed and immediately digivolved, his dragon form leaping into the sky with next to no warning or explanation…Kouichi was done with waiting.

 _You said you didn’t trust your judgement._ Ken thought grimly, remembering Keirmon’s admission. _I’m going to have to._

He had to let him go.

He would have to trust Kouichi’s judgement, even as he _knew_ it was being twisted. He would have to trust his own, even as he hated himself for what he’d picked.

But Daisuke didn’t know any of this. He didn’t understand how _hard_ it had been to come to this decision. How long he’d taken to come to it. Daisuke claimed Wisetmon had talked with him for an hour. To Ken, it had felt like days. And most of the time, it hadn’t been talk.

“Of course I’m not okay with it.” Ken shook his head, only conscious effort keeping him from snapping at his friend. Daisuke couldn’t understand. “But there’s nothing to be done about it now.”

Takuya had left, and neither of them had any means of transportation that would allow them to cross the hours worth of flight between the desert and where they’d made camp last night. Not in time to be of any use.

Ryuudamon had _warned_ him. If they’d kept going, would they have been able to get out of Anubimon’s domain before they’d been found?

It’s better this way. Kouichi was free of the Dark Ring. Free to do what he truly wanted. And Ken was closer to his goal. It wasn’t like he was worried. It wasn’t like he wished he could _help._ It wasn’t like he was letting his _friend_ down. It was better this way.

If he said it enough, maybe he would believe it.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Daisuke put his hands behind his head, looking up at the grey sky as they walked. Ken shivered, but the chill didn’t seem to bother Daisuke too much. The motion drew the other chosen’s attention however, causing him to shoot Ken a lopsided grin, “If you think its cold now, just wait until night. That’ll make this feel balmy.”

“How pleasant.” Ken muttered, glad for his warm clothing, even if the wind cut right through it.

“Oi! Jerkmon! How much further is it?” Daisuke called ahead, to where the pale purple fox-dragon stalked a couple dozen paces ahead of them. The digimon stopped, one yellow eye narrowing as he tilted his head to look back at him.

“Feel lucky that I don’t just leave you here to find your own damn way, human. You _have_ been there before, I’m sure you can remember where to go.” A dismissive flick of his tail had Dorumon ignoring them again.

“Cheery, isn’t he?” Daisuke muttered, and then sighed, “Look, Ken, I get that you want to check out where the mirage was, but it’s gone now. I _asked_ Wisitwhatsit about the crest. There’s nothing there.”

“There _must_ have been a reason for him to put it _there.”_ Ken muttered. Wisetmon could see some of the future. That much was clear from his talks with the mirror digimon. Not to mention Dorumon’s story, where he’d fortold the coming of the corruption and its ensuing madness. It was strange—the way Ryuudamon told the story, it was a slow process. One that wasn’t fully realized until Lucemon snapped, and forced the other six Lords to stop him. That difference in time…Was Dorumon right? Could Wisetmon have prevented it, if he hadn’t left?

Or had the digimon truly seen no other choice, and in his own way prepared for a future only he could see?

The preparations were strange too. _Why_ would Wisetmon create a mirage of the Digimon Kaiser’s base—something that hadn’t existed before a year ago? Why did it appear only months ago—conveniently shortly after that very object was destroyed?

Why would he create itif not to draw attention? But digimon refused to go near it. Because the world was warped.

Daisuke waking Wisetmon had dispelled the illusion…but Wisetmon had told him to follow the path meant for him.

Meant for _him._

Daisuke shouldn’t have been the one to go into that base. He shouldn’t have been the one to find that mirror. Something was hidden there. Something _Ken_ had needed to find.

Even if the mirage was gone, that something should still be there.

x-x-x

“It seems…normal.”

Keirmon’s claws dug into the shingles, clinging to the slanted rooftop, crouching behind an arched gabel. He was cloaked in the darkness. Hidden from the eyes of the digimon that meandered about below them. It was technically day, but the half light did little to illuminate the streets below them, nestled as the town was in the shadow of the enormous citadel.

If it weren’t for the gloomy atmosphere, and the washed out colors, it would seem like just any town, only with digimon instead of people. Shops were open, customers wandering from one to another. Some just looking, others shopping, even more arguing with the shopkeepers. Bits of conversation drifted up from the narrow roads between chunks of buildings. Just across the street there was some sort of grey veggiemon trying to sell his wares, chunks of meat, still on the bone—fresh grown in soil imported from Lillithmon’s domain.

Soil? _Meat?_

“What did you expect? A bunch of savages?” Ryuudamon’s remark drew Keirmon’s attention away from the street below. The dragon digimon was much slower in his movements—not quite as naturally stealthy as Keirmon. He’d been lagging behind, so much that Keirmon had begun to wonder if he’d decided that enough was enough and it was time to just go home.

Apparently not. He just decided to take his time.

“With what you’ve been saying about the corruption…and how it felt…” Keirmon trailed off…Ryuudamon was studying him.

The dragon then turned away, looking out over the street with his own measured examination, “You truly came to this world knowing nothing about it, didn’t you?”

“I knew it was dangerous.” Keirmon shrugged, even as something like guilt settled in his gut. Even he, the Warrior of Darkness, had come into the Dark Area with preconceptions. Gennai had warned it was dangerous. Ken hadn’t had pleasant things to say about it either—his silence more telling than the few details he let slip.

“Typical.” Ryuudamon shook his head mournfully, and didn’t move to say more.

It…was unlike Ryuudamon to just quiet like that. If there was one thing Keirmon had learned about the dragon, it was that he delighted in talking about history. As if…

As if he was worried it would be lost.

“Tell me.” In that moment, Keirmon made up his mind, turning his back on the citadel looming above the buildings. He didn’t want to wait. They were in the shadow of Anubimon’s capital. Kouji was probably inside.

But…it would be easier to get past guards at the gate by night, when there would be less eyes watching, and the ambient half-light dimmer. Plus, he felt he owed Ryuudamon at least this much, to listen to the story. Ryuudamon had left his home to guide them. He’d even followed Keirmon _this_ far, to Anubimon’s very doorstep, even though he thought it was a fool’s errand.

The dragon looked shocked, and Keirmon shifted uncomfortably. After a few moments of stunned silence, Ryuudamon settled down on the rooftop.

“In the beginning…the only difference between this world and the other was the proportion of digimon.” He began quietly, almost hesitantly. But with each word he gained more and more confidence, settling into his usual rhythm of a storyteller who knew his work by heart.

“The Dark Area exists on the edges of the Digital World. It was created through the combined efforts of Anubimon and Sphinxmon, to catch and process all the viral data it could, acting as a filter for the rest of the Digital World. That’s why, even before Lucemon’s betrayal, the proportion of Virus to other types of digimon was always so great.”

Types…? Kouichi…didn’t really know about types. But… _Keirmon_ did. Certain digimon had slightly different scents. He had noticed that as Anyamon. The Koromon had smelled different than Agumon. Agumon smelled like Veemon. Wormmon smelled different than the rest. Even with Keirmon’s senses—which weren’t as strong as Anyamon’s.

Now that he was paying attention…

All the digimon down there smelled the same. Like Wormmon. Ryuudamon…was different. Like Veemon. Like most of the Chosen’s digimon for that matter.

“You…are a different type. From the rest.”

“Mm, yes. I AM a Vaccine type.” Ryuudamon waved it off, “I am one of the last left. But you are missing the point. Attribute is supposed to be a very superficial thing. So why is it so strange that I, a Vaccine digimon, live here? Why are there BlackAgumon, BlackTailmon, and BlackGabumon mixed in among the crowd down there, but no sign of their Vaccine counterparts?”

_Why indeed…_

_“Those that remain are either resistant to it, or corrupted beyond caring.”_

“They don’t seem corrupted…” Keirmon mumbled to himself, half turning, to see the street again. There was a BlackTailmon haggling with a fish-monger, a green-blob type digimon sitting in a pink shell. Negotiations were going sour, leading the BlackTailmon to swipe at the other digimon out of frustration, who merely laughed and pulled down the lid of its shell, yellow eyes staring impishly out of the holes in the pink and black clam.

He remembered how it felt, with the virus rampaging through his data. He remembered the whispering voices that had promised him everything he wanted. He remembered how it fed the poisonous anger, how it clouded his mind where normally he could think _through_ that haze. He remembered how it had convinced him that power was truly the only thing that would matter, if he listened, he would have the power to hunt down and shred any that so much as touched what was his.

Power he knew now to be a lie.

“You are letting your own experiences color your judgement.” Ryuudamon retorted, “Your case was an extreme one. Virus-type digimon are resistant to some of the more…damaging effects. Why do you think I never gave Wormmon a ward?”

He’d never thought about it. Wormmon hadn’t ever seemed to act any different. Keirmon had just assumed it simply wasn’t affecting him. Ken’s problem was something completely different.

“The corruption is, at its core, a _virus._ It attacked the Data-types. It drove most insane—warping their thoughts and actions. They became violent. Unreasonable. Cruel. Wards don’t even help much, Dorumon is the only one I know of who managed to hold out this long, and he’s half-crazy as it is. We usually evacuate them immediately if we can. Vaccine-types are resistant to the altering effects—too resistant. Unless we manage to ward them, they quickly break down under the pressure, as the virus continually attacks them. We call it fading. Then…they either break, warping into the virus version of their species, or die of exhaustion.”

“Leaving only the Virus-types behind…”

Ryuudamon nodded.

“…but what of me?” Keirmon didn’t know what his attribute was, but he didn’t matchany of the cases correctly. He didn’t have the weakness of the Vaccine-types. The wards worked for him, unlike the Data-types, even if the mental effects sounded more like what he had been through. Was still going through, to an extent, if his will wavered, although much of what he had to deal with now was Sphinxmon’s baggage.

_Sphinxmon…_

“It’s because of Sphinxmon, isn’t it?”

“The original target _was_ Sphinxmon. It may explain the…deviation and serverity of your case. From what I can tell, you have a much stronger…connection to this world than most digimon do.” Ryuudamon conceded, “The only other case I know of was Lucemon himself. He was a Virus-type, but he suffered Data-type madness, and Vaccine-style twisting. And even before that—where did he find it? There should have been no way for such a potent, _contagious_ virus to exist.The Dark Area was _designed_ to handle viral data. To break it down and reconfigure it into digimon. The _cycle._ After a few lifetimes the data would be purified, becoming a data type digimon, or even a vaccine. So what happened? How did he get it through the safeguards?”

_The cycle is broken._

The cycle of death and rebirth. In the Digital World, the power from the Sanctums had a hand in it, but just like digivolution, Keirmon was starting to suspect that they weren’t the end-all be all to everything like Gennai made them sound. There had been no active Sanctum in the Dark Area. Even Ryuudamon hadn’t known about the Tower of Light until Ken had mentioned it.

Sphinxmon had been part of that cycle. But he was dead. His data left to rot in that cavern, until Keirmon found it.

Only one other would know about the mechanisms in place.

“Anubimon?”

If he created the Dark Area with Sphinxmon, he would know about everything. He would know how to sneak a virus through the system.

And…the system remained broken ever since. The cycle was broken. The virus continued to spread. To mutate. He made no effort to fix it.

“It is my personal speculation _only.”_ Ryuudamon warned, “Anubimon is Lord of this Domain. He looks out for and provides for his followers. For all their faults, Virus digimon can be _extremely_ loyal to those they deem deserving of it. And after Lucemon’s cruelty and chaos, Anubimon stepped in and gave them _stability._ ”

At least now he knew why he’d kept fixating on Anubimon, even as he knew LordKnightmon was the real enemy. Sphinxmon had _history._

Now that he knew about it, he could take it into account. Both digimon fell silent as they waited, Ryuudamon fallen into sullen thought, and Keirmon turning everything over in his mind, watching the citadel’s shadow and the gate. The guards were indistinct shapes from this distance, and he dared not sneak closer. The roofs would be exposed at the end of the row—there was an open courtyard before the gate.

And then—they moved. The digimon snapped to attention. The doors started to open. Keirmon shot up, scrabbling to the edge of the roof. The crowd was moving, attention gravitating toward the citadel. This was an unsual occurance—breaking up the usual routine of the market place. Some even took to the rooftops.

Ryuudamon hissed a warning at him, but Keirmon ignored it, seizing the opportunity to get a closer look. It would be more suspicious to try and be sneaky, considering there were plenty of digimon taking to the roof for a better vantage point, and they didn’t even bother. Keirmon ended up on the edge of the roof squished between a BlackTailmon and a purple imp-like digimon who shot Keirmon a glare when he accidently bumped into him, only to turn around and shake a red-gloved fist at a feathered grey-blue winged digimon who tried to jostle him out of his spot.

“Hey! What gives? I was here first! Bada boom!”

Keirmon ignored them as they dissolved into a little minibrawl right there, tiny flames, and claws, and talons, darts, and wings.

One of the darts ended up going wild, sinking into Keirmon’s arm. He turned to glare at the two, grabbing the imp by his scarf and the winged ball by a talon and held them into the air.

“Settle down.” The growl came out more irritated than intended—the dart hadn’t hurt, per se, but it was making him dizzy.

“Hey, who do you think you are--!” “Let go of me you over grown kitten--!”

“Just sit down and be quiet.” Purple energy sparked in his claws, not enough to hurt, but it shocked both of them, twin yelps rising above the din of the crowd. He dropped them back to the rooftop, and with much grumbling and many dark looks they finally acquiesced to sharing the spot.

“Mmm, nice job handling those two.” The purr came from his other side. Keirmon yanked the dart from his arm and dropped it off the roof, meeting the considering golden eyes on his other side. BlackTailmon’s smirk made him feel uncomfortable, her blue tipped tail, flicking idly, “I haven’t seen a digimon like you around before.”

Keirmon ignored her. He could feel her eyes on him even then.

But then the clamour at the gates caught her attention again.

The heavy metal gates settled back, held in place by digimon Keirmon didn’t recognize—both tall, and humanoid in shape. One was _huge_ and bulky with the head of a bull—a minotaur?—and his right arm ended in some sort of metallic stump, rather than the strong hand that was easily holding back the gate. The other was some sort of bird-man digimon, black feathered wings folded against his back, feathers ringing both his shoulders and a purple beaked mask. He didn’t seem anywhere near as physically strong as the other, but his three clawed hand managed to keep his own door open with deceptive ease.

Both air and ground, Keirmon noticed, cataloging the situation. He hadn’t dared come closer before, but with the crowd it seemed a wonderful chance to do so without seeming out of place. It wasn’t like he could fly without Ken’s help, but it was good to know of the obstacles in his path. Given how long it had taken the gates to open, and theearsplitting _noise_ as the metal ground against stone, sneaking in that way would not be an option. There had to be another way—he just had to find it.

And then…everything else lost any importance as a tall winged figured stepped out of the interior hall, lit from behind by eerie green lights. Anubimon was just as Keirmon remembered him, blue fur, golden feathers, a nonchalant presence that infuriated him, remembering the casual ease with which this digimon had stolen away his brother. Right in front of him.

There was no grey barrier now. There was nothing between him and the object of his hatred.

Not all _his_ hatred. He refused to be manipulated again.

Pain shot through his arm, right above the wrist guard. Squeezing just hard enough to cause pain, but not enough to draw blood was a hard balance, every instinct screaming to let claws loose and attack.

Those instincts snarled at him. No…not instincts. Not really.

For the first time in a long time, Kouichi was the one to pull away. Or he tried to. He’d been in sync with his digimon for so long now; it was hard to pick out any specific thing that was Keirmon alone.

  1. He thought, steeling himself against the urge to Spirit Evolve and attack. _He isn’t_ MY _enemy._



Not his. Not really. It was better to save the surprise for LordKnightmon. If Sphinxmon had a score to pick with Anubimon, that was ancient history. His priority was his brother. And he was going to see if he could get him out of there quietly _before_ he resorted to the good ol’ bash down the door strategy.

He was done waiting. That didn’t mean he was going to be _reckless._

He forced his eyes away from Anubimon, who’d turned to speak to someone at his side. The digimon next to him was tiny in comparison. She almost seemed like a child, braided pigtails bouncing with every step. Her helmet was a snake’s head, white wings flaring from each corner. A shield was held casually in one hand, but it was the giant sword slung casually over her shoulder—almost as large as she was—that caught his attention the most. Black and white snakes were entwined up the center of the large blade, chasing each other’s tail.

“Lilithmon must have requested a conference.” The words startled him; they were mumbled, not directed at him at all. BlackTailmon’s eyes were focused on the pair, narrow and clear. He tried not to let on that he’d heard her.

The two digimon spoke for a moment longer, and then with a sweep of those huge golden wings Anubimon was airborn. The child-like digimon watched him for a moment, and then gathered her own momentum, gathering a running start before leaping over the edge of the crowd—held back by a ring of grim dog-like digimon—like the ones that had attacked him, Keirmon realized. She bounced off the canopy of a market stall, sailing through the air toward the rooftops, her braids writhing in the wind like snakes in their own right.

The sound of wild laughter drew closer, and Keirmon realized she was heading straight for their rooftop. It was the closest to the citadel, the first in the row leading out of town. He scrambled backwards, hair trigger response drawing in the energy for a slide evolution. But…it wasn’t an attack, and he violently clamped down on the reaction, forcing the code to disperse before it gathered too thick. Hopefully it wasn’t noticed. But he was the only one reacting as she sailed overhead, the singular movement drawing attention from both those around him, and the object of all their attention. The time seemed to slow for the moment she touched down on the roof behind them. She spun around, giving him a cheeky grin and a blown kiss before he was off again, leaping from roof top to roof top, following the retreating form of the lord of the dormain.

“You really must be new. Minervamon always travels this way.” BlackTailmon’s remarks were rather dry, among the snickers from the other digimon crowded at the edge of the roof. Mocking “Not so cool now, eh?” came from the little imp digimon, whispered just a little too loudly to the feathered ball, which tried to muffle his laughter in his wing. At least they managed to bond over the experience and were acting like old friends rather than brawling like they had before.

“I may have just gotten into town.” Keirmon responded, taking a few slow breaths to calm himself. He was just…too jumpy right now. If seeing Anubimon had put him _that_ much on edge.

He hadn’t realized his tail was thrashing in agitation until he felt hers twine around it, yellow eyes locking with his. “I can show you around, if you like.”

This was the last thing he needed.

“…and I somehow avoided being bullied into a _date._ With a BlackTailmon of all things.” Keirmon griped to Ryuudamon once he finally managed to find him again. Luckily the dragon digimon had gone to ground near where Keirmon had left him, having dropped off the roof into one of the nearby allyways. He suffered through the dragon’s amused laughter with a little sulking, “The whole point of going then was to _avoid_ attention _.”_

“I tried to warn you—no matter what you do, you will draw attention.” Ryuudamon chuckled, “There was a reason I chose the shadowed side of town, why I warned you to stick to the roof tops. I am recognizable to many, which is problem enough. But you are _new_ , and that is just as much a reason to pay attention.” He tapped his muzzle thoughtfully with one claw, “Still, one BlackTailmon’s attentions will not ruin our cover. I’m more worried that you caught Minervamon’s eye…but her attention is a fickle one, and it is many miles to the border. If they are truly going to conference, as your ‘lady friend’ surmised…”

Keirmon covered his face with his palms, greatful for once for the black fur and mask that covered his face. It felt like it should be cherry red in embarrassment. It was a good thing Takuya wasn’t here; he wouldn’t have let this go either. Keirmon didn’t think he’d be able to handle them both. “…they will be gone some time yet.”

“With Anubimon gone, it should be safer to try and sneak in the Citadel, at least.” Keirmon grumbled, “But I wouldn’t be able to push the gate open myself, and definitely not quietly. I could probably take the guards if I needed to, but that would draw more attention than I would like.”

They hadn’t…felt like mega-level digimon. And anything less than that he should be able to handle as Lowemon. KaiserLowemon if he needed to.

“It is true. You wouldn’t be able to avoid raising the alarm. I am not familiar enough with the floor plan to know if there are other, less obvious entryways…and I know you do not want to spend the days it would take to do proper reconnaisence.” Ryuudamon shot Keirmon a look when he was about to protest that very thing, “I think I understand by now your fixation on urgency.”

“Then what? Should I just try and fight my way in?” He couldn’t see many more options. There weren’t any windows he could see in the citadel walls other than the guard towers, and each of those always had some sort of flying digimon nesting in them. He could try and wait for Anubimon to return, and sneak in when they let him in…

But being so close to him…Keirmon rather doubted his ability to remain hidden. Not only was Anubimon a mega, and who _knew_ what other abilities he had other than his barriers, but if Keirmon had that much trouble just _seeing_ him earlier…from across the square…

No. The whole point was to make a move while one of the major players was out. He would still have to avoid LordKnightmon…assuming LordKnightmon was even there. Ryuudamon had said he was in Anubimon’s court as his advisor, as far as gossip knew…

But that didn’t sit right with him. Kouji, Hikari, and Tailmon all agreed that LordKnightmon’s stated goal was total domination. Peace by means of absolute order. He wouldn’t be working _for_ someone.

 _Mind on this problem._ Keirmon reminded himself. He had to get inside before he could worry about anything else.

“I…think I have an idea.” Ryuudamon spoke slowly, drawing Keirmon’s focus away from the citadel. The dragon was digging through his pack carefully. He withdrew his paw, red crystal glittered where they hung, sliver and gold chains looped loosely around each claw. There were more in the bag, Keirmon knew. Every night since they’d left Sphinxmon’s Fall, Ryuudamon had been carefully working with the rough crystal he had gathered. Taking great care in the shaping of the stone and the carving of the runes with nothing more than his own claws. “I told you I am recognizable. For a reason. Every so often I make a round of the Domains, giving each Lord a…tribute if you will. Losing digimon to madness or fading is not in anyone’s best interest when the population is stagnant.”

“And there’s no guarantee you or one of the others will pick up stray digimon, right?”

Ryuudamon nodded, “If there is trouble, they take the digimon to the Lord. I make sure they always have a small suppy of the wards. It’s part of the reason why they leave me alone. Plus…” And he cracked a small smile, “I keep an eye on Devimon. He was one of Lucemon’s most fanatical followers. The Lords are understandably worried about _anything_ connected to Lucemon.”

Ryuudamon slipped his claws free, the stones settling into his bag again, “I should be able to get through the gates if I come bearing these as my ‘offering.’ It has been almost a year since I was here last—It is about time for my usual visit, and no one should be any wiser. If you sneak in after…well…” Ryuudamon shrugged, “As long as I don’t see you, I won’t be obligated to inform my host, will I?”


	41. Infiltration

“Ken!”

The excited voice drifted across the sands, drawing the Chosen out of his thoughts and back into the queer desert air. Night was falling. There was a definite chill in the air as the “light” waned. They would have to find shelter soon. Or make one. Perhaps Togemogumon could dig out a cave of sorts for the night.

 _In sand?_ A snide thought snorted. _Good luck._

Ken ignored it, crossing the sandy basin toward where he could see Togemogumon’s big bulk, Daisuke’s much smaller silhouette beside him. The edges of the crater towered over them, creeping shadows slowly covering the westward half of the crater as the “sun” sank inch by inch. In order to make that shape in _sand_ there had to be something more stable beneath. Otherwise the walls would have collapsed long ago.

Ken shivered, feeling the oncoming cold even through the insulating warmth of his sweater. It just seemed to slice right through. Daisuke had joked about this place hating fire. Ken could believe it. It would explain why Ryuudamon had used a lantern. That was why they _needed_ an enclosed shelter.

Daisuke waved at him as he stepped into Togemogumon’s shadow. The large armor digimon wasn’t digging anymore, piles of black sand heaped at either side of him. At Ken’s approach the Togemogumon closed his eyes, seeming to sigh as he glowed, shrinking down and down to the little worm digimon Ken was so familiar with. He looked exhausted.

“Are you doing okay, Wormmon?” Ken knelt down next to his partner. Wormmon looked up at him with hazy blue eyes. Ken felt guilty for even _thinking_ that he should ask Wormmon to do anything more. Wormmon wasn’t used to armor evolution, and Ken had asked the digimon to hold it for as long as he possibly could. He’d have to find something else to do for shelter. He was not going to ask Wormmon to digivolve again. “It’s alright.” He smiled at his tired digimon, “Just rest for a while.”

Ken then turned to Daisuke, who was standing on the edge of the deep trough Togemogumon had dug into the sand over the course of the day—controlled shifts of hour-long evolutions, and then an hour’s break, where Raidramon had taken over. Unfortunetly, Togemogumon was simply more suited to moving the large amounts of sand, so the shifts had ended up getting gradually longer for the giant hedgehog digimon.

Veemon seemed to be holding up quite well, all things considered. He did have more experience with the digimental. Veemon spotted Ken approaching, tugging excitedly on Daisuke’s jacket, “Is it my turn again Daisuke?”

“Nah, I actually think we’re done.” The goggle-head shaded his eyes out of habit, checking the darkening sky. “We’ll have to go to ground soon. Too bad there aren’t any rocks nearby.”

“I warned you of that when we arrived, human.” Dorumon’s biting voice drew Ken’s attention. The agitated dragon-fox didn’t much like this place, but he’d refused to leave once he’d led them there. He was currently perched on one of the smaller mounds of sand piled near the trench, the one made by Raidramon if Ken remembered correctly.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be fine.” Daisuke just waved off the statement, and then turned back to Ken, “What do you say we just head on in then? It’s gotta be better than hanging around out here all night.”

“In?” Ken peered over the edge, expecting to find a shallow trench of sand, nothing more. Daisuke just jumped in, Veemon following after him with a gleeful shout. The two of them slipped and rolled down the sandy slope toward…

  1. The direct center was much deeper than the sides. This side was a slope, but there…It was as if the sand had been cut straight along a cliff. The uppermost layers of sand had shifted, some falling off the shelf of black sandstone to create small piles along the bottom of the trench. Daisuke and Veemon were creating a new pile, shoveling sand out of a rectangular opening in the wall.



A door.

“How—“ Ken was stunned. He looked around the basin again, No, he hadn’t misjudged its size. He sputtered, seeing Daisuke’s proud grin for the first time. “How did you _know?”_

The boy paused in his labours and scratched his head thoughtfully, “I dunno. It just seemed like the right spot. I tried to figure out where the door I went in was, and that specific ridge in the background looked familiar…” He just smiled and shrugged. He never was one to question when something so fortuitous happened to go right for once.

_The other one will know._

Ken had assumed Wisetmon had meant that Daisuke would know where this basin had been. He’d expected to take a day, perhaps even two, trying different spots, before they would find even a _sign_ of something. Sand was notorious for making it difficult to find something once buried.

He hadn’t expected that the spot Daisuke had pointed at hours ago to be the exact _one._

Daisuke _had_ said that Wisetmon had spent days mucking around in his memories. Maybe it hadn’t just been viewing them, like the other chosen had assumed? Had he…done _something_ to his friend?

“C’mon! I know I’m awesome, but you need to stop gaping and help me clear out this doorway! It’ll go faster! You too Jerkmon!”

“And _why_ do you think I care for helping _you,_ human?” The dragon bristled, glaring down the incline to where a sand-covered Daisuke had his head sticking out of the opening, they’d managed to make enough room to actually go inside. How deep was it?

“Well, if you weren’t at least interested you woulda been long gone by now, wouldn’tcha?” Daisuke waved a hand in some random direction, “So either get out of here, or get down and help.”

Ken couldn’t help but be amused as Dorumon stiffened, his eyes narrowing and fangs baring—only to grumble as he slide down the slope to aid in the moving efforts. Daisuke was more observant than most people gave him credit for. Sometimes.

He then shook his head, turning at the sound of scraping sand. Wormmon was dragging himself toward Ken. The Chosen scooped up his partner immediately, checking over the utterly spent digimon, “Is something wrong? You should be resting!”

“I…can help.” Wormmon’s antennae twitched, the front two of his legs scrabbling in the air, “I’m…good at digging.”

“You’ve done enough.” Ken soothed, “We never would have made it this far without you. I’ll bring you down there if you like, but you have to promise me not to lift a leg to help. Let us do it this time.”

It was getting cooler now. If Daisuke was right the wind would begin to pick up. Ken wasn’t quite sure if the crater-like basin would shield them from the wind. Smaller depressions perhaps, but this one was _huge._ It would be better if they could dig out the tunnel inside, and then pile a bunch of the sand before the opening to act as a sort of windbreak.

He eyed the size of the doorway as he carefully half slid; half picked his way to the bottom of the trench, doing some mental calculations. They might barely fit.

“Daisuke.” He caught the attention of the other chosen. Daisuke almost looked like he had in Wisetmon’s mirror by now, almost completely covered in black sand. Sand wasn’t supposed to stick like that. Not without water. Ken set Wormmon down on one of the growing piles outside the doorway, with strict orders to _rest._ Togemogumon, while good at digging, was too large for this specific opening. He pulled out his D-Terminal as Daisuke approached, going through the now-practiced sequence of summoning the Digimental of Friendship.

“What’re you doing, Ken?” Daisuke raised an eyebrow as the digimental shimmered into a column of light above Ken’s D-Terminal. Ken looked away, “Wormmon would be too tired to protect us should something happen. Besides, isn’t that opening large enough for Raidramon? Even if Togemogumon was more effective before, Raidramon would still be faster than us.”

“Of course! I hadn’t thought of that.” Daisuke grinned and grabbed at the digimental, transferring the data to his own D-Terminal. Then he called down the slowly deepening tunnel, “Oi, Veemon! What say you to digivolving and speeding up this thing?”

“Just leave it to me Daisuke!” _Veemon armor digivolve to…_

Ken watched Raidramon attack the tunnels with renewed vigor, sending streams of sand flying out of the opening as he worked. He couldn’t help the small smile as he, Daisuke, and Dorumon came to wait by Wormmon. If they tried to get in there they’d just end up with sand to the face right now.

But buried beneath the amusement and satisfaction of a task going smoothly, Ken couldn’t help the worry pooling in his chest. What would they find here? Buried beneath the sand?

What _was_ it Wisetmon wanted him to do?

And really, could he trust the digimon enough to do it?

x-x-x

“L-LordKnightmon. Sir.”

They were so cute. So uncertain. It always amused him every time one of Anubimon’s servents stumbled over his name. They were so used to only using that title for Anubimon. Once one of the more stubborn ones had the _gall_ to call him Knightmon. Did he _look_ like one of those clunking rust buckets? No, he was far superior. He had worked hard and long to achieve this level, under the tutalidge of Lucemon—a _god._

No. He was no mere Knightmon. He’d deleted the digimon for that, giving the ultimate insult and just leaving his data to rot. He didn’t need it. He was sure _someone_ had absorbed it by now. One did not let data go to waste here.

While Anubimon was out, LordKnightmon had been appointed the replacement authority—something which galled the more senior of Anubimon’s officers, who’d had the responsibility before LordKnightmon’s arrival—and so led to this scenario, with Kuratenmon bowing before him.

“I thought it was policy not to allow visitors while the Lord of the Domain is away?” He asked idly, inspecting the fingerplates of his gauntlet for any scuffs or scratches. It was looking a bit dull. Perhaps he should polish his armor soon.

“It is, sir.” The masked bird-man was one of the day’s gate guards—who was the other? LordKnightmon couldn’t be bothered to remember. Some hulking fellow. “But it is Ryuudamon, sir. The Lord has left standing orders that Ryuudamon is to be admitted even in his absence so long as it is a scheduled tribute run.”

Ryuudamon…Ryuudamon…that sounded familiar…

“And is it?”

The question caught the digimon off guard, “Well…no…we aren’t due for another shipment of wards for another few weeks. But he claims that circumstances led to him moving up his time-table. Something happened at Sphinxmon’s Fall, so he decided to leave early.”

“Well, if it isn’t scheduled, then the rule doesn’t apply.” LordKnightmon flicked his fingers idly. And then paused, perhaps he shouldn’t be so dismissive. _Sphinxmon’s Fall…_

Darkness was the only equivalent he couldn’t find in this world. He’d hoped to use the Dark Child to make up the void, but his hunter hadn’t returned yet. With the Spirits of Light in hand—once he managed to untangle them from the boy—he wouldn’t even necessarily need the Essence. If he could find a source of Darkness…then his set would be complete. Perhaps there was something at Sphinxmon’s Fall. Some remnant of the lost Ancient Digimon. He would need to remember to send a scout out that way if he didn’t hear something from his hunter soon.

 _Only nine forces._ Eight if he didn’t count Darkness, which he had plans for. It felt…incomplete to him. Such a…messy situation. It threw off the symmetry of the whole thing. Perhaps he could find another substitute of appropriate strength for that tenth slot? What could he replace an _Essence_ with? He was fairly certain the Spirits of Light could work as appropriate replacement for the Essence of Light if need be, but the Spirits of Darkness and Steel were not within his reach at the moment. What _exactly_ were the essences? Anubimon had been unusually helpful, but even he didn’t know where they came from.

And where _had_ he heard that name before? It was nagging at him…

_“He’s…human, sir. Dark hair. Ryuudamon—the Gatekeeper—is with him. Along with a Wormmon.”_

Ryuudamon had been traveling with the Dark Child. The Boy Emperor as ParaAngewomon liked to call him.

“Wait.” He called, before Kuratenmon could completely leave the chamber. The birdman stopped in the door. “I changed my mind. Make him wait, but an hour after sundown, let him in and escort him to me.”

He needed time to research. If this rookie digimon had immediate access to the domain’s Lord, there should be something about him among Anubimon’s records. They could be something he could use.

And even if not, perhaps this…Ryuudamon would know of his hunter’s fate, and whether he needed to look for…a replacement for that spot in his collection.

 _Control the forces, and you control the world._ LordKnightmon thought, remembering Anubimon’s words when he first came to this place, lost and falling through the worlds after Lucemon’s defeat at the hands of those brats. He’d been a part of a _god_. And then it had been torn from him by a bunch of human _children._

He’d immediately thought of the spirits when he heard Anubimon’s words. With the children gone they should have been nothing but inert statues, ripe for the picking. But he’d been burned by the Celestials, once more cast out from his home world, the growing power of three angry angels on his heels.

No matter. Soon enough his collection would be complete. Perhaps once he’d molded this world in his image he would return to his old home and pay them back.

He thought of his gallery upstairs, the eight statues, one for each of the sanctums, holding a gleaming orb. One was empty.. Light, at the top of the circle…

And then there was the center focus. He had to find that. _Darkness._

x-x-x

Hiryumon flew. He’d been flying for hours. His wings hurt. He really should stop. He _needed_ to stop. But he was _so close._ He’d taken a nap a few hours back, but he could see the blinking red dot growing nearer and nearer with each beat of his wings. Night was coming. But night would be no barrier to him. His fire kept him warm. His wings gave him light, even if it was just a small candle-flame in the face of a yawning pit of darkness.

_“A giant flaming dragon isn’t hard to miss, child of fire.” The sarcastic tone remarked, “If you wish to move unnoticed, I’d suggest avoiding such a method in the future.”_

Dorumon’s words snarked at him from his memory, bubbling to the surface as Hiryumon considered the benefits of stopping. As it was, he would be a glowing beacon to anyone who had the sense of mind to look-up.

On the other…it wasn’t like anything was looking for him. He was close. So close. Kouji’s D-Scanner was clutched between his talons; the blinking red light of Kouichi’s D-Scanner was just one more quadrant away. Peering throught the darkness he could see a shape, looming up over the seemingly endless forest. Lights gleamed in windows. Flickering greens and reds. No warm yellows or clear whites here. They felt like eyes, staring out over the world. Keeping watch.

Hiryumon had the irrational fear that he had to _hide_ from those eyes. He slowed, shrinking back and dipping lower toward the treeline, skimming the tops of even the tallest of trees. Kouichi was in there. Hiryumon was sure of it. And if Kouichi was there…

He noticed that it was suddenly much darker now. Startled, Hiryumon snaked his neck around to look behind him. The bright warm glow of his wings had faded exponentially, the flames having solidified into burnished orange feathers. They still glowed faintly, the embers of a low fire rather than a cheery hearth. He shivered, the cold feeling as if it cut through his scale armor to soft human flesh beneath. At least the knowledge that he could tone down the glow would be useful, although he didn’t much like that it took most of his insulating heat with it.

The eyes towered above him now, Hiryumon hadn’t stopped his forward flight at all, skimming the treetops with his claws. He could see it a bit better now—a towering citadel, made of stone, rising from the center of a town. There were no lights in the town. But things were moving. Many things. Dark shapes wandered the streets, and as Hiryumon drifted closer to the outer buildings, he could hear conversations. Not whispered or soft ones, like he would expect night-time meetings to be.

He fluttered to a stop on a rooftop, folding his wings tight against his back to hide any residual glow. In a place as dark as this it would be noticed near immediately should someone scan the sky.

He listened to the conversations below, strained his eyes to try and pick out details in the dark. There was nothing clandestine about these digimon. It was…normal. This city was just as alive at night as most others were during the day.

 _And why wouldn’t it be?_ Takuya was sure the thought wasn’t entirely his, but he could see the logic in it immediately. It wasn’t like anything else in this world was normal. Deserts were cold. Forests silent. And skies starless.

…although he wasn’t sure about that last one. He suspected there were _black_ stars, but he had no way to prove it since the night sky was also…well…black.

He settled in, comparing the relative placement of the red dot with the layout of the town he could see in the gloom. And then frowned, looking up at the citadel. He mentally reached for his own D-Scanner, tucked safely away wherever it was.

_Don’t tell me you are already **inside**_ _that thing?_

_x-x-x_

Keirmon smothered a laugh at Takuya’s groan; he needed to be silent as he crept through the halls, skirting the half-circle lights thrown off by the weird glowing stones set into the walls.

 _A little too late, Takuya._ Keirmon thought back. Ryuudamon had been allowed into the keep only a scant ten minutes ago. If Takuya had arrived before that…

Well. It might not have made much of a difference. Both of Takuya’s digimon forms had the annoying habit of glowing in the dark. Keirmon had only managed to sneak in by hiding in the shadowed arch above the door as the guards opened the gate to escort Ryuudamon in, flipping himself silently through after they passed.

A sound from ahead! Keirmon ducked into a side passage. The darkness seemed to grow…deeper…around him, the lights from the luminescent stones shrank back. It was a…useful ability, whatever it was. Darkness _was_ his element. He vaguely remembered Duskmon doing something similar…on the Dark Continent…

 _Darkness swallowed_ everything. _The warriors were_ nothing.

Keirmon shivered, his will wavered and the light began to creep forward again. He shook off the chill of those memories. He didn’t like them surfacing. He _knew_ that underneath the hate Duskmon had been him. But it felt so…alien. So cold.

A small group of digimon trudged passed his hiding spot, some sort of grey Veggiemon and…was that a Palmon? But no, the flower was purple. Her skin just as grey as the Veggiemon’s. He watched them go, grateful it wasn’t one of the many Dobermon guards he’d spotted along his explorations. Darkness didn’t mean much with a nose that good. He’d tried to avoid them as much as he could.

_“Want me to start knocking the place down? I don’t think I can sneak in. Even the roof seems watched from three billion directions.”_

Takuya’s reply froze Keirmon in midmotion, shaking his head before he realized that it wouldn’t do any good. He sighed; he would _need_ to talk for this. He didn’t think the D-Scanner could pick up his thoughts. It would be convenient if it did. He checked the passage again, before lowering his voice to a whisper, “Don’t. The last thing I need is the guards alerted.”

“ _Then what the heck am I supposed to do? I refuse to sit this one out. He’s my friend_ too.”

“You’ve been flying all day, haven’t you?” Keirmon began to pick his way down the corridor, keeping his voice quiet, “Rest. Grab some food from the market. I’ll probably need a diversion once I _find_ Kouji. But I need peace in order to do that.”

He grew silent, as he listened to the silent hallway. Nothing. For such a large place it seemed very empty. Perhaps he was going about this search the wrong way. Maybe instead of _avoiding_ the guards, he should try and _find_ them. It would be harder to stay undetected, but he hadn’t expected quite how _deserted_ these halls would be. Anything worth while would be under guard.

He turned, looking back down the way the digimon had gone, and then glanced in the direction they’d come. Which way to go? He’d been steadily climbing since he’d managed to sneak in, avoiding the guards. What were the chances that they would keep Kouji upstairs?

Little to none, if he considered the clichés. Prisoners, barring princesses, generally were kept in dungeons. Below ground. The guard presence had been noticeably stronger on the first and second floors.

_Princess Kouji…_

The image didn’t bring him a smile now. It was headed off by a gnawing worry, by the doubts lingering at the edge of his mind. He’d be too late. Too slow. How long had it taken for him to get here?

He pushed away the doubts. He _had_ to be confident. If he wasn’t…

No. He began to backtrack, eventually finding and following the faint chatter of the small group of plant-like digimon. The movement. The focus. He buried himself in the task in hand, refusing to let himself dwell on the worries and doubts. After a few long moments, Takuya spoke again.

 _“Fine.”_ His reluctance was obvious, “ _But if_ anything _happens you better let me know. If you aren’t done by morning I’m coming in whether you like it or not. And it_ won’t _be subtle.”_

_Like you are ever subtle._ Keirmon shook his head at the thought, but didn’t voice it. He was too close now.

The faint static noise of the active communication cut off, leaving Keirmon alone in his head once again. The silence stretched…and then he could hear the whispers again. He pretended he couldn’t.

He didn’t think about what would happen if he failed again.

x-x-x

“Ah, welcome, _welcome_ Ryuudamon.” LordKnightmon lounged in Anubimon’s seat in the audience hall. He waved back the guard who’d escorted the small dragon in, dismissing the tall black-coated digimon. What was his name? Avenge-something or other? He probably should know. Anubimon didn’t seem to keep many mega-level digimon around the keep. But LordKnightmon never did care about subordinates, not unless they were distinctly useful.

Not that it mattered; the guard withdrew with a tip of his hat, pulling the door shut behind him with a clang.

LordKnightmon regarded the tiny rookie digimon before him. This hall had been built by mega digimon for mega digimon. As had much of the keep, so a rookie digimon always seemed swallowed by it. The dragon didn’t seem too nervous at his astronomical disadvantage. He seemed completely at ease in the relatively enormous space, craning his neck to look up at the much taller, armored mega level.

Not that LordKnightmon was an _average_ mega. But it was a decent enough milestone. “I apologize for the delay; the true lord of the citadel is away at the moment, so decision had to be made on what was to be done. I’m afraid your visit was quite unscheduled. I hope your journey wasn’t too…stressful?”

And research. LordKnightmon had needed to research. Anubimon kept extensive records dating back to the founding of the Dark Area. _Everyone_ seemed to know Ryuudamon. There had to be _something_ there.

“Given the happenings near my home, I decided to embark on my journey sooner than expected.” The dragon’s smile was full of sharp fangs, and looked vaguely threatening, but that was fairly normal for dragon-type digimon. “Luckily I’d had enough of a stock prepared that the…incident at Sphinxmon’s Fall didn’t set me back too far.”

“Incident?” LordKnightmon asked politely, genuinely curious this time. He had discovered the significance of the place, but there hadn’t been any clear news about what had actually happened. It was making all of the other Lords nervous. That had been in part what Lillithmon had wanted to speak with Anubimon about.

Ryuudamon shrugged those small armored covered shoulders, “I wasn’t there personally, but I _felt_ it. The Dark One stirs. Devimon began speaking nonsense. If there is something upsetting the balance, I felt it would be prudent to get ahead of it and offer my wards to the domains.”

LordKnightmon didn’t understand the uses of the wards at all, even as Kuratenmon had done his best to explain it. But it was such a common thing that all he could say was that they were…a protection charm of sorts. This…tiny insignificant little rookie digimon seemed to provide a service that was so ingrained in the history of this Area…well…LordKnightmon had to admire the shrewdness that had led the dragon to his position of necessity.

“That pack seems rather…small to supply all six domains.” LordKnightmon nodded at the satchel looped around Ryuudamon’s neck. The dragon eyed him, and then glanced at it, “I only brought what I needed. The rest I left with a friend in the city.”

“A _friend_ now, is it?” LordKnightmon rolled the word around, savoring it. He stretched, moving out of his lounge to sit up straight, hands on his knees. Imposing. Regal. “Ah yes, we had word from the border guards of your…unusual traveling companion. What was it? A human? One of the _Chosen?_ ”

No flinch. Not even the slightest bit of tension. Ryuudamon merely tilted his head, “I did travel with a human child, yes, but it was more a matter of convenience. We separated some time last night. They intended to continue west, while I turned south to the Citadel. The friend I spoke of was one of my contacts in the city, not some human.”

“Of course.” He kept his voice pleasant, but the news left him unsatisfied. Well, not completely. He did truly want to know what became of the child and the hunter he sent after him, but all was not lost on that front. The news that there was _something_ at Sphinxmon’s Fall relating to the Dark One was quite welcome. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to substitute the human after all. Perhaps he should send one of his more trusted scouts out that way.

LordKnightmon snapped his fingers; a small shape scurried out of one of the small alcoves along the side of the hall. The green monkey hurriedly crossed the large expanse, coming to an uncertain stop at the foot of the dias holding LordKnightmon’s chair. He scoffed at the ridiculous yellow patterned outfit and the overly large slingshot—why couldn’t Anubimon have chosen one of the _less_ brightly colored rookies to be his attendant?

“Monmon,” _and it had a stupid name too_ , “Take Ryuudamon’s satchel to the treasurey and place the warding stones in their place.” Wherever that was supposed to be.

The dragon parted with it reluctantly, and LordKnightmon made a mental note to have a look at the contents before this was done. Once the door settled shut again, LordKnightmon leaned forward in his chair, lacing his fingers and resting his elbows gently on his knees. The movements produced a beautiful clinking of armor, he thought fondly.

“Now…” LordKnightmon began, “Perhaps you can indulge my curiosity on a tiny matter since I hear you are something of a historian...I admit to being a recent…immigrant to this plane, but I have heard the most _interesting_ story…”

For the first time he could see…something other than confidence in the rookie’s posture. Uncertainty. Apprehension. LordKnightmon gloried in it. He flourished an armored hand, “Records say this Domain once belonged to another. A Fallen Angel with a terrible power, one ripped from the true guardian of this place. ”

To know that Lucemon had been just as wonderfully twisted in this world made LordKnightmon…quite satisfied. Some things were a constant among the worlds, and that was comforting, “The records are scarce from that time…it was quite chaotic, I understand. But I uncovered an account written by Anubimon himself. _He_ wasn’t the one to place the final seal, like most in this domain believe…was he?”

“Ouryumon of the East Gate,” The name dropped like a pin, resounding throughout the hall. Echoing in the silence. “Not many seem to recall what happened to AncientSphinxmon’s four guardians. They just…vanished after Lucemon’s downfall.”

_“Ryuudamon—the Gatekeeper—is with him.”_

He stood up, feeling the power coursing through him, gathering into the Pile Bunker on his right arm. And then he _moved._ His instantaneous attack, _Fist of Fear…_

…met _nothing._

LordKnightmon pirouetted, smoothly turning to face the armored dragon digimon as he settled on the floor a good few yards away. Even the Legendary Warriors—digimon a step _beyond_ a normal mega level—had difficulty keeping up with that speed. A rookie would have been disintegrated from the shockwave _alone._

Yet this digimon had dodged without a sweat. He was tense. Nervous. But he _wasn’t afraid._ The stone set into his helmet was blazing red.

“Don’t do this.” The dragon’s voice was quiet, those blue eyes sharp as they bore into LordKnighmon’s helmet. “Anubimon—”

“Has nothing to do with this.” LordKnighmon waved it off, “He is _away_. I am in command at the moment. And I am… _very_ interested in you, little dragon. The one remaining gatekeeper.”

Most accounts he’d been able to find on the Sealing of Lucemon had the six lords of hell banding together, Anubimon placing the final seal, and then accepting the Lordship of the now bereft domain. Anubimon’s account however…

 _They_ were the ones to complete the seal. The last remnants of Sphinxmon’s rule. His four guardians.

All but one of the gates had been abandoned. East Gate. Now known as Devimon’s gate. Ouryumon was never seen after the battle. But a Ryuudamon began to show up among the domains, bringing with him relief from the madness Lucemon had wrought. A golden dragon who lived near Devimon’s gate. Who _watched_ over Devimon’s gate.

“What would make a digimon give up his _power?_ ” LordKnightmon wondered aloud, “In this world of no rebirth… _how_ could a digimon give up his power?”

“That you even ask means that you would never understand.” The answer infuriated him. LordKnightmon felt his armor heating, anger bubbling up behind his tightly controlled composure. Was the runt patronizing _him?_ Ryuudamon shrugged, turning away from LordKnightmon toward the door. “Leave it be, LordKnightmon. Your constant lust for power will destroy many more than you if you let it rule.”

“I do _not_ lust for power.” He spat out, “I seek _Justice._ I seek _Order.”_ LordKnightmon snapped one of his golden blades, the ribbon digging into the stone floor between the rookie digimon and the door. He drew it back, leaving a crack of broken rock and stone. Ryuudamon regarded it for a moment, eyes narrowing as he turned back.

“You seek _Power._ ” Ryuudamon repeated, the glow in the gemstone intensifying. “You seek Order by eliminating growth. Justice through forced obedience. Peace through strength. Trying to pretty it up with such noble concepts cheapens them for their use.” A…shadow seemed to hover over the tiny dragon. A _much_ larger shadow. Golden armor gleamed in the red light from the gemstone. “I have delivered my burden. I will leave now, before I do something we both will regret.”

The dragon turned his back again pointedly, moving slowly toward the door.

That…was a _threat._

The realization rang in LordKnightmon’s mind.

_He is a threat._

And there was one thing to do with threats.

_Eliminate it._

_“Laser Lattice!”_

The tiny body twisted out of the way of the net, the building energy exploding from the gemstone in his helmet. The dragon was engulfed in light.

_Warp Digivolution…Ouryumon._

Something whispered amongst those who remembered the Dark Masters. Apocalymon. From the stories—no, the legends of the Chosen Digimon, being able to immediately go from Rookie to Mega-level at will. But that was impossible! Not only was Ryuudamon not a partner digimon, but LordKnightmon _had_ all of the Essences—save one—the forces of evolution were _his_ to command!

His own words rang back to him. _Those who can digivolve naturally will have the Essence._ His advice to Arukenimon, before she spun her web for the chosen children. Advice he’d gotten from Anubimon. The _Essence._

Ryuudamon lived near Sphinxmon’s Fall.

_The Dark One stirs…_

“You have it don’t you?!” LordKnightmon crowed with delight as the light resolved into coils of golden armor, bladed wings, and a greatsword grapsed in each claw. Eyes were blue diamonds, clear and hard peering out from beneath a golden helm. “Sphinxmon’s power! You found it. _”_

The power of darkness he so desperately needed.

“No.” The dragon’s voice was much lower, and rumbled through the room. The jaw piece on the helmet didn’t move, but such methods of speaking were common for large armored digimon. “My strength is my own. Grown and stored in my long…long life.”

LordKnightmon didn’t care. Here was the answer to his problems. Here was a living _Essence_ ripe for the pickings.

He just needed to take it.


	42. Behind the Locked Door

Ouryumon was rather agile for such a huge beast; LordKnightmon had to admit it, much to his annoyance. The confined spaces of the Citadel’s hall and surrounding passageways should have worked in _his_ favor. Neither of the digimon wanted to destroy the place—an act that would kill far more than was necessary, given the guards and servents needed to operate a building this size—but LordKnightmon was finding it harder than he expected to pin down the slippery golden dragon. He had not attacked yet, something that was really beginning to infuriate the Royal Knight. Did he truly believe LordKnightmon so weak that he would be able to escape without _fighting?_

He studied the dragon’s weaving between the pillars of the hall, projected that into future paths, and then picked the most probable one.

_Spiral Masquerade!_

His golden blades shot forward. Most of the strikes missed as the snake-like beast suddenly shifted direction, but he heard the satisfied clang of metal on metal. There was even a tiny scratch in the armor. Almost unnoticeable, but it proved LordKnightmon _could_ cut it. If he could…then well, enough Spiral Masquerades in one spot would do the job quite nicely.

_Laser Lattice!_

The net missed, but the projectile would force the dragon to pivot in _that_ direction. LordKnightmon readied the Pile Bunker, feeling for the power that would initiate his _Fist of Fear_ technique. If Ouryumon was half the warrior the records painted him as, he would see this coming. LordKnightmon _moved_ , halfway across the room in a fraction of a breath, directly before the marauding dragon. He shifted the power as the other digimon suddenly rose into the air to avoid him, moving from the focused shockwave blast to a much wider attack, twisting the energy into a different pattern.

_Scarlet Tempest!_

The whirlwind of red energy exploded from the Pile Bunker on his arm, engulfing Ouryumon within its confines. He saw the dragon slow, hesitating at the unfamiliar attack. Normally a foe would be sliced to ribbons by the hundreds of tiny blades of energy, but LordKnightmon knew that the attacks were too random to break through Ouryumon’s armor. He took advantage of the hesitation, engulfing the mega-digimon in a close range _Laser Lattice_.

Ouryumon crashed into the wall. _Through_ the wall, bound by the flickering golden energy. It wouldn’t last. LordKnightmon saw it straining already, knew that he only had seconds, and he had to make them count.

He _stepped_ again, following the dragon’s path into one of the outer corridors. It was clear. LordKnightmon was quite miffed that the mega-level guard Avenge-something or other, hadn’t bothered to check on what the commotion was about. They’d been making enough of a racket as it was.

 _Ryuudamon is well known among the domains,_ the thought whispered to him even as he readied his attack _, And you are not their Lord. Not yet. Would they risk their lives for_ you? _Against one they respect?_

The anger drove him, building behind each strike of the Spiral Masquerade as his golden blades slammed into the trapped dragon’s armor. He _would_ be respected. _He_ would be their Lord. He would rule _everything._

He would bring _Order._ Whether they liked it or not.

Ouryumon roared in pain as the flurry of blows _finally_ cut through the thick armor.

Something _snapped_. One of LordKnighmon’s golden blades splintered.

Ouryumon thrashed in pain and desperation to get free, the Laser Lattice shattering into motes of energy. LordKnightmon was knocked away, what hit him? A tail? A wing? Both were bladed, and the slice of pain supported either of those theories. He crashed into another wall, the stones shattering around him, pinging off his armor. The hit had done more damage than the impact had, LordKnightmon thought grimly, touching the gouge cut into his armor. It would heal with time, but for now, it _hurt._

“Very well.” Ouryumon’s voice growled into the echoing corridor, “You leave me with no choice.”

LordKnightmon saw the dragon rise, his attention drawn by the jagged blade lodged between burnished golden armor. His shoulder-blade. It remained stuck fast. Ouryumon parted the two greatswords he’d kept close until now, usuing them as shield more than weapons. Was he ready to fight back?

Wings spread, wings that were really just another large set of blades. They touched the edges of the corridor. LordKnightmon struggled out of his prison of fallen stone, just as the dragon began to charge.

He was a force of nature, the rampaging dragon that came barreling toward him. No more dodging. No more twisting. Now the full force slammed into LordKnightmon’s hastily raised shield, those wild blades cutting into stone, into his shield. His armor. He was like a landslide. An earthflow. Ouryumon tore up the corridor.

 _This_ was Sphinxmon’s General. _This_ was who Anubimon respected.

LordKnightmon was driven back, through one wall. And then another. And another.

The Citadel _shuddered._

_x-x-x_

_An earthquake?_

Keirmon allowed for the briefest moment of panic before his claws dug into the stone, keeping him in place in his perch. This alcove had once held a torch. It was long since dead and done, pushed up against the wall when he’d squeezed himself in to wait. The tight fit helped ground him when the stone shook.

Was it normal?

No. The guards below him were just as confused. One quickly set off at a trot, the Dobermon loping down the hall at speed. That left just one guarding the door to the dungeon. Was it Takuya? It couldn’t be morning yet. It hadn’t been _that_ long since he’d spoken to him. Just long enough to back-track down to the lower levels. Granted, it had been slow going. There were many more digimon down here. More digimon. More Dobermon. But that meant more _gossip._

_“Oi! Kouichi! Is that you?”_

Keirmon nearly banged his head against the stone, jerking it around at the words ringing in his ears. The Dobermon below him didn’t even twitch. It was still looking down the hallway the other had run down. Muscles taut. Nervous. At least it was convenient to know for sure others couldn’t hear that.

The Lord was out. They’d likely be on edge if trouble happened.

 _“I’m going to assume you can’t answer for sneaking reasons—but the whole citadel just_ shuddered _. No one seems to know what happened. The gate guards are lost—speculation is running through the market place right now. Some sort of flying black dragon thing just shot off from one of the guard towers.”_

Likely to go get Anubimon. That meant they were on a timer. Keirmon eyed the distance between his perch and the guard. If he dropped there…as long as he was quick and quiet…

He was about to spring when it shuddered again, this time followed by a distant crash. The Dobermon took a few steps down the hallway, and then growled at itself. Forcing itself to stay at its post. Keirmon coiled his muscles, unsheathing his claws. He would only get one clean shot at this.

He was silent as he dislodged himself from the alcove, purple energy cackling along his claws.

_Silent Slash._

He caught the Dobermon from behind, right in the neck. He felt the neck crack, guilt coiling in his gut as the Dobermon dissolved into data particals. He materialized his D-Scanner, using it to gather the code before it fully dispersed.

If only the Dobermon had gone to see. He wouldn’t have been deleted.

No. He couldn’t let the guilt stop him. Not now. Keirmon tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Locked somehow. He didn’t see a place for a key. Nor had the guard dropped anything.

He’d broken stealth to remove the guard. Nothing else for it now.

Two more slashes—these ones more charged with energy—had the heavy wooden door lying on the floor inside the darkened dungeon. There were no torches in here.The door had been too thick to cut directly. The hinges…now that was another matter.

Keirmon grunted as he tried to lift the door—maybe he could prop it back in its frame—but he didn’t have the brute strength for it. It didn’t help that the floor shook, causing his grip to slip and the heavy door to thud to the floor again. He’d only managed to lift it an inch or two.

“ _Oi! There’s a fight going on! Someone just got knocked through one of the walls! The city guards are trying to keep the townsfolk away, but—yeah! I see Pinkie over there! It’s LordKnightmon! Geez he seems pissed. You sure he isn’t fighting you?”_

“I haven’t even _seen_ LordKnightmon yet.” Keirmon muttered, frowning as he left the door where it lay. “Have you seen who his opponent is?”

He moved a few steps in and just _breathed._ The air was stale down here. That door didn’t get opened much. His nose wasn’t as sensitive as Anyamon’s was, but he could pick out the guard’s scent. There were some older ones. Fainter. He couldn’t pick out specifics. But it was enough to tell him that this place was not unused.

_“No, whatever it is didn’t follow him through the wall. I’m gonna try and sneak in while they are distracted. Be careful. LordKnightmon’s back inside, and he’s got a bee shoved somewhere uncomfortable. I don’t think the fighting is over.”_

Keirmon didn’t respond. He had a dungeon to search.

x-x-x

Yet another tremor. Storabimon let out a worried breath. What was going on out there?

The clinking of the chains as he paced was grating on his nerves, but he was too wound up to sit still. Since the first tremor he’d known there was _something_ wrong. No, even before it. Something was itching at him. He didn’t know what it was. Something in the back of is mind.

_“Earthquake? A battle? Blast it—I hate not knowing.”_

_“_ You and me both.” Storabimon muttered, one clawed foot meeting with something small and metal and sending it skidding across the stone floor. The food dish. Not that a handful of meatscraps had been any sort of meal.

The sound echoed in the empty dungeon, bouncing along the thin walls out beyond his cell. Storabimon stopped in his pacing, silencing the clinking chains. He cocked an ear toward the fading sound. There’d been some sort of a thud after that last quake. He couldn’t hear the guards anymore either.

He waited in silence. There was something. Something in the darkness. He could _smell_ it.

It wasn’t the acrid taste of virus. Nor was it the bittersweet of that vaccine type that had visited Shadow. No. It was unfamiliar.

And yet…

 _“I feel something.”_ That itch. Shadow was a rumble in the back of Storabimon’s mind. He pushed as close to the bars as he could, staring out into the dark. It was a useless motion—the chains wouldn’t let him touch them. The incident with ParaAngewomon had likely decided on their length.

He waited. Muscles tense, all his focus on the two senses that could actually help him right now. Sound. And scent.

There was something here. It was coming closer. It wasn’t LordKnightmon. LordKnightmon was virus.

He could hear the faint steps. Slow. Careful. Sneaking. _Who_ would be sneaking in this place?

He couldn’t help it. He felt hope stirring.

“… _niisan?”_ The word was whispered, carried on a stifled breath. Hope was a fragile thing. He’d all but given up on _being_ rescued. He’d focused on _keeping_ himself together. After that he would worry about getting out.

And…silence. His heart began to sink. Of course. Just wishful thinking.

_“Kouji…?”_

An answering whisper. Storabimon jumped, the chains clattering against the floor. It sounded…slightly different but…

 _“_ Niisan!” He strained against the chains, pulling them taunt. He reached toward the voice. The tips of his claws touched the bars. Another hand settled in his, gripping it with the same desperation as his own. It was too big. Too strong. Claws pierced through the material of his gloves.

“I found you…”

Somehow he just _knew._ It clicked together, like something that had been missing for so long.

His pride be damned. As soon as he was out of his cell, he was giving his brother a _hug._

Shadow agreed with the plan, quite vehemently. Now they just had to figure out how to _get_ out.

x-x-x

It had been surprisingly easy to sneak in through the giant _gaping_ hole in the citadel wall. Sure, guards had been scrambled to contain the area and hold back the curious and worried townsfolk, but a few shoves and the occasional burn had short-tempered digimon picking fights on their own. Takuya had just needed to sit back and watch, and before long the guards were quite occupied trying to keep a brawl from breaking out.

He’d shifted to Flamemon for this, thankful that it seemed his flaming tail worked the same as his wings. If he didn’t _want_ to be seen, the fire solidified to coiled orange fur. Sure, his coloring was far from inconspicuous, but at least he wasn’t on fire.

Once inside…well, checking Kouji’s digivice didn’t seem to do much to help. The map wouldn’t zoom anymore, and even if it did, it didn’t show levels. He knew Kouichi was in the citadel. But…that was about it. Kouji would probably be kept in a dungeon. That was a good place to start.

Neither of these halls had any indication of where they would lead, and Flamemon had decided against following LordKnightmon through the knocked out wall. He could still hear the sounds of battle, and the citadel still shuddered in response. At this rate he would have to choose blindly.

Except, in the end, he wasn’t given much of a choice.

“Oi! Hurry up you slaggarts! We need to get this wall patched up!”

Voices were echoing down one passage, so Flamemon turned and ran in the other direction. He just needed to go down. Dungeons were usually down.

…so why did all the stairs lead _up?_

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and nearly careened into some sort of green monkey that scampered out of a side room. Flamemon screeched to a stop. Green eyes met the monkey’s blank black ones.

“ _Intruder!”_ It screeched, jumping toward Flamemon flailing his arms, “ _Swing Swing!”_

Flamemon could sense the power building. A tiny power, only a rookie’s attack, but an attack nonetheless. He dodged, drawing in his own fire. He hated it, but he couldn’t let it alert the guards—

“Did you hear that!? It came from up here!”

…too late. Growls and barks were echoing down the corridor from whence he came, where the guards had come to patch up the wall.

 _…Damn it._ He sprang away, deciding to ignore the monkey for now. He just needed to lose them. He dropped to all fours without thinking about it; Flamemon was faster and more comfortable running this way—

There was a twang behind him.

_“Banana Slip!”_

What the…?

Flamemon didn’t see the yellow peel that landed in front of him, shot by the monkey’s giant slingshot. He hit it, his claw slipped, and he didn’t remember anything as he was sent careening head first into the wall.

His head exploded into stars, and he stumbled, trying to pick himself up. The world was spinning. Something green approached, brandishing some large oddly shaped stick. He should know what it was…he did…it was…

The thought fluttered out of reach, rattling around inside his head. The green thing was reaching for him. It was an enemy. It had attacked him.

_Baby Salamander!_

The fire roared on Flamemon’s breath, summoned by instinct somewhere in the haze his mind had become. The monkey was dancing. Flailing. Trying to avoid the flames.

He was vaguely aware of darker shapes beyond the flames.

Those were bad.

He had to move.

Had to…move…

Flamemon ran. Up the stairs. Away from the flames and the monkey’s screeching. He didn’t even know where he should be running toward. Just away from there.

_Just run._

x-x-x

“LordKnightmon has the key.” Keirmon grunted an acknowledgement to the digimon sitting just on the other side of the cell door, as close as his chains would stretch. He didn’t _recognize_ the digimon, but the blue-grey color scheme, wolfish features, and the scarf definitely helped support what his heart already knew.

His brother. His brother was _here._ Alive. Not…quite well, but alive.

Not free yet. But that was fixable. Keirmon didn’t need light to study the lock on the cell door. He’d tried to slice through the bars—no luck. And then he’d tried to slice through the hinges holding the metal to the stone. That didn’t work either. His claws were not enough, it seemed. Not this time.

The ground shook. Metal bars rattling in its frame. Storabimon frowned, turning his head in the direction of the noise, “Do you know what’s going on?”

Keirmon shook his head, and then realized his brother wouldn’t be able to see it.

“No…” He said at last, following instinct and placing his palms together. He needed something. Something to use as a lock pick. He’d already checked the other cells, those that were opened were empty, “Takuya says it’s some sort of battle, but not with him. He was going to try and sneak during the confusion—”

A snort, “Takuya. Sneaking. Funny.”

“I’m sure he’s doing his best.” A twist of will, and Keirmon felt energy sparking between his palms. Slowly, following that same instinct, he drew his hands apart. He hadn’t done much fighting as Keirmon—he wasn’t sure how the battle abilities worked. But Keirmon seemed to know, so Kouichi just followed along with that same sort of direction.

The energy streamed between his hands, visible against the darkness, but giving off no light. It wasn’t as wild as when he pushed his power through his claws, using the slicing attack, this one felt…more stable.

It grew as he widened the distance between his hands, shrunk as he narrowed it. Something occurred to him. A staff. An _energy_ staff? Why not? Wolfmon’s sword worked on a similar principal, and Kouichi was more practiced with a stave anyway.

But…instead of growing it into a staff…could he make it smaller? Small enough to fit into the keyhole?

It seemed to…solidify once he’d gotten it to the size he wanted, long and thin. He’d had the intention of trying to pick the lock with it, but Kouichi had very little knowledge of picking locks. None, actually, beyond what television made it out to be. He fiddled with it, steadily growing more and more frustrated listening to the faint clink of moving parts while seeing no identifiable progress.

“’Niisan…” Storabimon was pacing again on the other side of the bars. Keirmon could just barely make him out, a shadowed shape against a darker backdrop. Chains clinked and rattled against the stone—that had been the sound that had led him this far. It was now beginning to grate on Kiermon’s nerves, “Maybe it would be easier to try and find the key?”

“And leave them free to move you again? No!” Keirmon hissed, his anger flaring at the thought of leaving his brother now, not after he’d _finally_ found him. The burst of emotion caused a surge of energy, disrupting the stable size and shape of the shrunken staff. “I will get you out of here, even if I have to carve through the _stone.”_

He _would_ do it if he needed to, but maybe he should try _blasting_ it first. Lowemon’s Shadow Meteor attack might work. It’s not like there wasn’t enough explosions going on above. Keirmon jerked his now misshapen lockpick. The energy hummed between his claws. Something screeched, but the staff wouldn’t move. He let it dissipate. The metal seemed to resist power.

“…what are you doing?”

Keirmon let out the breath he’d been holding, and with it, he summoned the digi-code, reaching for the spirits nestled in his data.

_Whataboutthecorruption?_

He hesitated, watching the code spinning lazily around him, throwing shadows on the wall. Storabimon was as close to the bars as he could be, unnerving black eyes shining in the light.

Shyamon’s coloring had changed, going from black and purple, to black and red. He didn’t want this world to touch the spirits too—

The stone on his chest was _burning._ Keirmon glanced down, and saw the darkness pooling in the heart of the stone. Ken’s had been like that, when there had been too much darkness for it to purify.

Keirmon closed his eyes, and let the data go.

_Slide Evolution…_

When he opened them…he had too many.

Everything quieted. Kouichi’s worries somehow felt…distant. The whispers of the dark. Sphinxmon’s shadow…everything. Gone. Leaving the dark, silent pit of unbroken night.

Duskmon took a rattling breath, reveling in the silence.

 _“…niisan?”_ The whisper was quiet, followed by another explosion above.

Duskmon considered the trapped digimon. Yes. This one was important. He was here for a reason. That one.

_Ghost Move._

Darkness slid through space, reforming on the interior of the cell. Duskmon stared down at the much smaller digimon. He didn’t shrink back at Duskmon’s sudden appearance, even as the displaced air ruffled the digimon’s fur. Why?

_…he can’t see you._

Duskmon processed the thought, and the memories attached to it. And then discarded it. It wouldn’t matter much in the end.

Tongues of blade slid from dragon’s jaws. The digimon flinched at the schink of metal.

“Do not move.”

Duskmon brought the blades down, shattering the chains binding the digimon’s limbs. The broken links clanked one last time before settling.

Now…how to get them out of here…

He knew he couldn’t blast the door down, and the stone wall was thick…

“Do you trust me?” The words startled the small wolf digimon, but then he nodded. Duskmon saw it easily through his shoulder eye, even as he continued searching for a different weak spot. “Come here.”

The short length of chain that remained connected to the manacles clinked as the digimon hesitantly moved forward. He was tense as Duskmon withdrew the blade on his right arm, using the bone-gauntlet to push the digimon toward his side. He tracked the digimon’s body language with his peripheral vision. Wary. Good. Only idiots trusted blindly.

Obviously this digimon meant something to him, and he to the digimon. Duskmon could not think of any other reason why he would be bothering with such a thing. He waited for the memories to come, but they did not.

Unnerved— _why_ would his memories be missing like that? He _knew_ they were there. They merely…stayed away. Held back.

That…was frustrating. He tightened his grip around the rookie digimon at his side, eliciting a hiss of pain as the teeth of his dragon’s head dug into the digimon’s shoulder.

“You know me?” He asked.

Another hissed breath, and then another nod.

“Good.” He would get answers one way or another. Duskmon closed his main eyes, letting the others slip into the shadows as he wrapped the darkness around them. _Ghost Move…_

This time, he dragged the digimon with him into the darkness; leaving the cell empty, save for a discarded food dish, and broken chains.


	43. The Essence of Kindness

This…was it.

Ken turned, taking in the red-lit room. It should have been pitch black. They were so far beneath the surface, down flights and flights of black stone steps. Dorumon’s crystal had begun to glow once they lost the light of day, throwing an eerie red glow along the smooth stone. The furry fox-dragon hrumped and didn’t respond when Ken had thanked him for the light.

They would have been blind without it—Ken had long since lost the flashlight he’d brought to the Digital World, back in Arukenimon’s lair. Ken’s imagination was far too willing to supply him with images of what would have happened if they’d been stumbling around such a place in the dark. Slipped footing. Falling. The stairs had seemed to go on forever.

At least, unlike the route to the Sanctum of Courage, this one didn’t seem to have any trials. Just one long staircase. Perhaps the Trial was finding the damn place in the first place?

Or maybe they’d never been made. Wisetmon had said it was never finished. What was the point of guarding something that was abandoned?

This inner room looked similar enough to the one he’d seen with Taichi, Daisuke, and Kouji. The Sanctum of Courage. A round room, pedestal in the middle, with a small indentation for a Digimental. Dorumon’s light was faint as he paced the room, studying the carvings on the wall, shining white in the black stone. Digital Runes. The fox-dragon’s eyes had narrowed, gleaming with interest.

“Well, what now?” Daisuke leaned against the pedestal, drumming his fingers against the empty surface. “We don’t have the Crest _or_ a Digimental. There’s no way to unlock it.”

“That would only be a problem if it were locked in the first place.” Ken hummed, remembering Wisetmon’s words, and casting even further back into his memory. The Sanctum of Courage…

Dorumon and his light were on the other side of the room, but Ken headed clockwise, ending up opposite the entrance. This was where…the door had been, projected by the combined power of the digimental and the crest. But there was something was wrong, something that did not match with what he remembered of the Sanctum of Courage. It nagged at him, his eyes being drawn toward the oddly…empty walls.

There was much…much less decoration in this room than he remembered. The wall Dorumon was studying was covered in carvings, but in this section? There was a good three feet of unblemished stone. Ken was sure there hadn’t been any blank space. Not even where the door would be.

He backtracked to where the runes stopped, halfway up the wall. They appeared to stop…mid phrase. No. Ken narrowed his eyes as he studied the last shape. This specific one wasn’t finished. He remembered it, using his finger to lightly trace the missing strokes. The wall was oddly warm for stone…

What _were_ they? These carvings? These digital runes? What were they _for?_ Gennai’s order must have carved them…but with what? How? _Why_ these specific patterns?

The last sanctum had been lit by a soft orange glow. No such thing here. Darkness. But was the Darkness a result of the world? Or—

_The code._

Everything seemed to fade.

_The code is incomplete._

He _knew_ this language.

The ache in his neck spiked, sending a shuddering wave of pain into his head. It became a slow, rhythmic pulse, but he could almost feel his mind pick up speed, memories sneaking out of the shadows in his mind. Memories of using these very runes as a code, building creating and _shaping_ the very world to his whims. Dark Rings. Dark Spires. The Digimon Kaiser’s _base._

It was a _program._

Everything in the Digital World was a program.

Suddenly he could read it. He could follow the lines of power painstakingly dug into stone.

_It was never complete._

_I reflect the light…_

“But when there is nothing around but darkness…” Ken murmured to himself, but it echoed, gaining Daisuke’s attention.

“Ken? What are you taking about?”

The words jerked Ken out of his head, and he turned abruptly to Daisuke, “We need to light it up.”

“Dorumon’s the only light. Ask him.” Daisuke was quite obviously confused, and it frustrated the Chosen of Kindness. It was obvious, why couldn’t Daisuke _see?_

“No. We need to light the _Sanctum._ ” He needed something. Something to write with. He dug through his bag, long since emptied of food. He’d lost his flashlight. Had he brought a _marker?_ Something he could use as paint? Something something something…

“ _Ken!? What are you doing?!”_

Noises. Irritating.

Ken ignored them.

He reached out to touch the wall again—he _knew_ where the lines would be drawn. Here. And here. He traced them with his fingertips—could almost see faint silver lines where they should be.

They lingered even after he’d moved on.

Ken froze. Those weren’t in his mind.

He completed the shape, and moved his hand away. The silver lines flashed, and settled, the newly completed rune glowed dimly, burned into the wall.

The stone was warm. It felt…different. This was the Digital World. Things could be _changed._ They were malleable. Color blossomed beneath his fingertips, as if it had been hiding beneath the surface, waiting for him. Flashes of memory seeped forward, and he moved on to the next one. Drawing on the symbols and runes he’d studied, but not understood during the visit to the Sanctum of Courage. But his recollection wasn’t quite right. He knew that. A mere glance told him that the two programs weren’t the _same._ He hovered uncertainly over a specific phrase. His memory said one thing…

But his mind offered another option, with that same cool logic once used to create great and terrible things. Izzy knew how to decipher the programs. How to read the code.

Ken—no, the Digimon Kaiser—had known how to _write_ them _._

_I shouldn’t be able to do this…_

The thought was vague, lingering in the back of his mind as he worked.

The room was humming, the runes glowing a silvery white as he completed them. Each one a step closer to the goal. To perfection.

_Stop…_

The headache was really distracting, trying to push its way forward. His free hand fumbled toward the stone hanging around his neck. The headaches had started when he’d first put the necklace on. He had promised Wormmon…

Just for a little while. He needed to think clearly. This was important.

The moment the chain left his neck, the haze of pain lifted, and he could _see._ He let the stone clatter to the stone floor, it didn’t matter anymore. The only things that did were the marks he was painting along the wall and the code building within his head.

x-x-x

Daisuke watched Ken uneasily as the other boy seemed to _attack_ the blank section of wall. Or…well…not so blank anymore. The entire room was glowing with a silvery light, one that had Daisuke brushing the sleeve of his jacket uneasily. It reminded him uneasily of the moat of sticky not-light that had been surrounding the reactor in the mirage. He couldn’t see where it was coming from, but Ken was smearing the stuff against the black stone wall, and _completely ignoring him._

And then something caught his attention, red mixed in with the silver. He could see it staining Ken’s fingertips.

“Oi, Ken! Chill out!” He took a step forward, reaching out to pull the chosen away from the wall, “You’re bleeding—” and how that was possible he didn’t know, the walls were for the most part unnaturally smooth, and aside from the carvings there were no ridges or dips in it.

But before Daisuke could even _touch_ Ken there was a fist being thrown at his face, and the bewildered Chosen had to quickly duck back to avoid being hit. Ken’s eyes were unfocused, his breathing heavy, and he was trembling. Quivering with…with what?

Was it anger? Pain? Fear?

Normally, Daisuke would have quipped something, tried to draw Ken back. But something stopped him. Something told him that now _really_ wasn’t the time. He glanced uneasily at Wormmon, who was passed out by the pedestal in the center of the room. Wormmon was probably the only one Ken would listen to at this point. Veemon saw his gaze and shrugged, shaking his head. Still asleep. Great.

Ken had turned back to his work, the little trail of red showing starkly against the lighter backdrop. The wall was about three fourths full now, and Ken had moved from his starting point as he went. Daisuke studied the surprisingly neat shapes that glowed softly along the wall—they were vaguely familiar. Gibberish, but familiar gibberish. Ken was being far too precise for them to be random squiggles.

 _Damn it Ken._ Daisuke wanted to grab his friend and smack some sense into him, but if Ken had reacted violently to just being _approached…_ He was moving like he’d been _possessed_ or something—only that was ridiculous.

What had he said before he went all weird and silent?

_“We need to light the Sanctum.”_

And he was. Dorumon’s red glow wasn’t needed anymore, that strange silvery not-light stark against the black stone wall. He turned, looking for the fox-dragon, and then froze as he took in the rest of the room. _Everything_ was glowing with that same dim light, the carvings—which had been hard to see, grooves in black stone—were now easily visible, highlighted from within.

“What the heck is going on here?” Daisuke muttered, scratching his head. His head was starting to hurt just thinking about trying to figure it out.

“An age old construct being completed.” He hadn’t expected an answer. Daisuke glanced at Dorumon, who was currently perched on top of the pedestal, a tiny gargoyle standing guard over Wormmon and Veemon below him. He fluttered his wings irritably, “That he can read such an _old_ script is near impossible. _Humans…”_

“Can you?”

A snort. “Of course, but I do not have the mind to interpret it. This is not writing, human, it is _building._ This place _has_ always felt wrong. Warped. I never understood why.”

“And now you do?” Unease was building in Diauske’s gut. Should he _let_ Ken continue?

“Explaining it to you would be useless.” The fox-dragon huffed, which led to Daisuke rounding on him and glaring, “Oi! Just say you don’t want to talk about it or something. Don’t just go calling me an idiot.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Dorumon bared his teeth, “Ask your friend. See if _he_ knows what is is he does.”

Which Daisuke would gladly do, if he wasn’t sure that if he tried, he might not be able to duck in time. Ken’s last attempt had been unsually fast…He thought Ken hadn’t been practicing since the end of the whole Digimon Kaiser thing. Hadn’t he said something about feeling like a different person since then? Slower?

 _Adrenalin_ _maybe_?

Ken was nearing the last of the empty space. What would happen when he finished?

Daisuke took a quick glance around the room—and then stopped. Something glinted in the silver light, a splash of red on the floor, near the beginning of Ken’s painted symbols. He crossed room, keeping a careful eye on Ken to make sure the other didn’t react the same way he did earlier.

Not even a glance. Daisuke knelt, picking up the discarded chain. It was the same stone Ken had been wearing earlier. Daisuke remembered that weird golden symbol. It was the same as the one on Veemon’s. But there was something off about it now. Earlier, the stone had been completely pitch black. Now…now the darkness was fading, revealing deep bloody red.

He didn’t have time to think about the implications of that color change, because a whisper reached his ears.

_“Parameters accepted. Running activation protocols.”_

The light was blinding, but Daisuke turned in time to see Ken fall. He lunged.

x-x-x

Ken walked. And walked. Everything looked the same, from one end of the horizon to another.

It was so grey. There was nothing to break the monotony on either side of him. He was alone.

Yet…he wasn’t.

Someone fell into step beside him. Ken didn’t look up. He knew in his heart who he would see, striding with him down this dark road.

“You helped.”

His voice sounded wrong, shattering the natural silence. Ken could hear humming in response.

“I’ve told you, Kenny-boy, you _need_ me.”

Ken closed his eyes, blocking out the grey. Blocking out everything.

“What do you want?”

“What do _you_ want?” The too familiar, and yet alien voice shot the question back at him. “After all, I _am_ you. The smarter part, yes, but still you.”

_I am but a mirror…_

Ken had wanted a place of his own. Something to control. Something that was his, and his alone. Not his brother’s. The Digimon Kaiser had given him that.

He had wanted to help Kouichi. The Digimon Kaiser had given him that. A Dark Ring, used not to control, but to regulate.

He had wanted to save Wormmon. The Digimon Kaiser had given him that too—stopping the fight before it started.

_“Stop running from the darkness, child. It is not your enemy.”_

Ken sighed, opening his eyes and turning, coming face to face with himself. No cape. No glasses. Just Ken. If the other stood a little taller, his back a little straighter…it just illustrated how low Ken’s self confidence was these days.

“Help me.”

The other smirked, “Took you long enough to ask.”

And then he was gone.

Ken steeled himself and turned to face the place from which he’d come.

The road stretched out behind him, but his eyes were drawn upward.

They were gathering, the grey sky darkening ominously with what appeared to be stormclouds. Lightning crackling in their midst. He’d been trying to outpace them since he’d arrived in the Dark Area, when his carefully crafted shields had been torn down.

Ryuudamon’s ward had helped, slowing them to small stream rather than the flood that was massing.

But he’d removed that safeguard, and he was tired of running.

x-x-x

“Geez Ken, you need to stop passing out on me. I’m _not_ willing to kiss you to wake you up.” Daisuke grumbled to himself, carefully lowering both himself, and the boy in his arms to the floor. The Chosen had collapsed where he’d been standing, and Daisuke’d managed to catch him before he cracked his head on the floor or something.

Danger averted, Daisuke glanced around the room. It seemed to hum around him—the buzz seeming to resonate in his very _bones_. The silver fire that had raced along the runes faded, leaving behind a pale almost purple light that had Daisuke’s eyes watering.

Light. _Real_ light.

The chosen had to quickly wipe away the gathering moisture. After the weird half-light that passed for day in this world, and fire light…well, it was a sight for sore eyes. Literally. It kind of hurt.

“ _Not locked he said…”_ The quiet groan caught his attention, and Daisuke abruptly released Ken as the other chosen stirred. The dark haired boy just groaned and rolled over on the stone floor, not giving Daisuke a single glance, a hand going to his head, letting out a hissed, pained breath.

“Ken…?” Daisuke asked warily, almost, but not quite touching Ken on the shoulder. He didn’t want another one of those punches aimed at him. “Anyone home? I’m not sure if I like the whole zombie thing you had going on…”

 _”Yes…”_ Daisuke wasn’t quite sure if that was actually a word, or just the sound of Ken’s harsh breathing. His confusion was resolved when the chosen pushed himself to his feet, hand still cradling his head, but Ken’s eyes didn’t have that crazy unfocused look, and he actually seemed to _see_ Daisuke this time. “I’m…fine. I think. What happened?”

“Hell if I know.” Daisuke tossed him a grin. It was a weak one, he was still shaken up. He had no idea what was going on. “You fainted when the freaky light happened. But you weren’t out for very long.”

The moment Daisuke said the word light, Ken’s head jerked up sharply and he began a thurough examination of the surrounding room. Daisuke didn’t pay attention to the muttering he couldn’t _quite_ make out. Instead he focused on his friend as he seemed to stalk the room.

There was something…different about Ken. Still. Daisuke couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It…was in the way he moved.

The way he stood just a little bit straighter.

“Are you two coming or what?”

Dorumon’s snapped question broke Daisuke’s concentration, “Oi, don’t get your tail in a twist—“

And then blinked uncomprehendingly at the sight that greeted him. He was _sure_ that had been a wall before. _Positive._ Unless that weird disorientating flash of light had thrown him more than he’d thought and he was really looking at the entrance they’d come from. But no, the stairs fading into darkness weren’t heading up, like the ones leading back to the surface. These were headed further down. “Where’d _that_ come from?”

“What did you think the fancy light show was _for?”_ Dorumon snorted at him, wings fluttering and a three fingered claw tapping impatiently against the edge of the opening. Daisuke shot a glare at him, but instead of arguing he turned his attention back to Ken, who was completely ignoring the newly created opening. He was studying the wall he’d attacked not ten minutes ago, running a hand along the script and muttering to himself.

 _“_ Needed to connect the data fields—an empty power grid, but no source? Something’s still missing…got the back-up running, but that will not last. Maybe it’s in the control room?”

“…Ken?”

He seemed to be doing that a lot lately….

“ _What?”_ The word was snapped, an irritated glare. And then Ken flinched, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, “Sorry. It’s just the headache.”

Daisuke shrugged, indicating the impatient fox-dragon waiting for them, “Shouldn’t we be heading down?”

“I…” Ken glanced back at the carvings, and then shook his head, “Right. Let me just…get Wormmon.”

Daisuke watched as the chosen crossed the room and gathered up his digimon partner. Veemon took that as a cue to retire from his self-imposed guard over the sleeping insect digimon, and scamper back to his own partner. The blue dragon-dinosaur tugged at his sleeve, white tipped claws poking at the object hanging from his hand. “Aren’cha gonna give that back?”

“Wha—” Oh. He’d almost forgotten. He still had Ken’s necklace. “Thanks Veemon! Oi, Ken! You dropped this earlier!”

He waved the stone to get his friend’s attention, red glittering in the ambient light. He saw Ken pause, frown, and then…shook his head.

“Hold on to it for now.” Daisuke’s arm sunk back to his side, the chain digging into his palm.

Well…it’s not like it was a big deal. It supposedly didn’t mean much to a _human…_ Ken never did say _why_ he’s been wearing it. For all Daisuke knew it could have just been a gift.

_It used to be black…_

“Hey! If _he_ doesn’t have to wear it, can I take mine off?”

Veemon’s was giving him the puppy dog eyes, big and watery and _pleading._

“No way! You’re going to keep that bracelet on until we get home!”

He slipped the necklace into the pocket of his jacket, pushing it out of his mind.

“Aw, c’mon Daisuke! It makes me feel like a _girl.”_ Veemon picked at the braided cord, sharp claws causing a section to fray.

“Don’t you dare--! Oi! Stop that!”

Daisuke chased his laughing partner down the stairs, catching up with Ken and Dorumon who were a few paces ahead. He knew what Veemon was doing, and by Qinglongmon’s beard he was thankful for the distraction.

x-x-x

Ken— _the Digimon Kaiser—_ looked around the room, machinery humming around him, lights and panels flicking on as the power he’d reconnected worked its stuttering way through the sanctum. It wasn’t stable—energy levels seemed to be fluctuating, and it was nowhere _near_ enough to power all the componants for long. He’d connected it to that same ambient energy matrix he used to fuel the programs he’d created in the past. But either they weren’t as compatible, or this world couldn’t access it as well.

_I had spires in the Dark Area. It should work._

Ken clenched his jaw against the mental recoil that usually accompanied those memories, only to be disturbed by the fact that there _was_ none. Oh there was guilt. There was guilt in spades. He knew he would never escape it. But he didn’t _want_ to.

_Your fear only feeds that which torments you._

Wisetmon’s words returned to him then. Fear. He’d been _running_ from the darkness.

Kouichi didn’t run. He embraced it. Worked with it. _Used_ it to protect those he cared about.

And above all, he fought tooth and nail to remain _himself_ in the process.

If only he could have done the same.

_I wonder…if only my heart hadn’t been so full of grief and bitterness…_

Perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps the Digimon Kaiser would have never existed. Perhaps he would have never lost that little boy Wormmon still mourned.

A wistful thought, full of idle regrets.

And none of them meant anything now.

Ken shifted Wormmon to one arm, balanced carefully against his shoulder. D-3 in hand he looked down at it, the screen glowing faintly as he navigated the menus, searching for an old…old program. Data bits danced in the air before him, drawn from that same ambient energy that filled both this world and the next. The energy that was now running out.

The particles consolidated to create golden frames. They hovered in the air for just a moment—merely long enough for Ken to replace his D-3 and grab them out of the air. The rune in the center mocked him, the meaning clear to him now.

The Mark of Evil.

He could see his blank expression reflected in the tinted lenses. He would have to edit the instructions to make something less…painful. But for now, he needed them.

“Ken?” Daisuke had followed him into the room, and was looking at him oddly. Glancing between Ken’s face and the glasses now held tight in Ken’s hand. Worried. Ken grimaced—it was hard enough on his own, dealing with…this.

“Daisuke…” Ken locked eyes with the other chosen, the edges of the glasses digging into his palms. Daisuke had been the one to defend him, when all the others had seen was his crimes. He was, admittedly, a bit of an idiot, pushy, annoying, and sometimes didn’t think before he acted.

But he was his friend. He’d come after him. He was here now.

“You have some sort of plan, don’t you? Something that involves…those.” Daisuke indicated the object in Ken’s hand. Ken swallowed. Nodding. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Luckily Daisuke didn’t seem to expect him to explain. “I won’t lie to you Ken—this whole thing is bugging me. I’m _worried_ about you. You’ve been acting weird since Wisitwhatsit dropped you in our campsite—” Before that, Daisuke. _Long_ before that. But he wouldn’t know. Only Kouichi and Wormmon would know. “But I didn’t follow you to your own personal hell just to start second guessing you now.” Ken nearly finched as Daisuke clapped his hand on his shoulder, “Just remember…I’m _here._ If you need my help for _anything_ just let me know, okay? Don’t keep everything to yourself. That’s just being selfish, ya’know?”

Ken snorted, caught between a laugh and a sigh, “I appreciate the sentiment, but unless you can read DigiCode…”

“What? The funny pictures you were scribbling on the wall out there? It all looks like gibberish to me.”

Ken shouldn’t understand it either. Hadn’t. It had seemed familiar in the Sanctum of Courage, an associative memory his brain just didn’t want to make…

But the Digimon Kaiser had. He’d spent _years_ learning how to manipulate the digital world. He _needed_ that knowledge now. If he hadn’t…then this journey would have been for nothing. They wouldn’t have made it this far.

_Stop running from the darkness, child. It is not your enemy._

Wisetmon’s words haunted him. He claimed to have seen the future. Had he _seen_ this? Had he known Ken would _need_ the Digimon Kaiser? That there _wasn’t_ a Digimon Kaiser? Just…Ken.

Just…Ken. And the darkness created from his own heart.

Daisuke was still waiting for an answer. Ken smiled weakly. “I’ll let you know if I need anything. Just keep an eye on the place, if any of the monitors start sparking let me know.”

“You bet!”

Pushing useless worries away, Ken slipped the glasses on, the light from the flickering monitors suddenly dimming behind the dark lenses. But in the dimness he could see…something else. He moved toward the large column in the center of the room, faint lines ran from the various machines and consoles to _this._ The majority of the power was being routed to this center construct. He could see the output channels, dark, unused. Power was going in, but not out.

There’d been something like it in the Sanctum of Courage, Ken remembered. It hadn’t been much more than shattered glass and a metal base. Now the glass was whole, running in a large tube from the edge of the metal straight to the ceiling. Ken put his hand out, over a vaguely shining panel. A transluscent keyboard shimmered into existence, the keys hovering at his fingertips. Text began to scroll along the edges of his vision, the glasses reading the data streaming from the machine.

 _Everything_ was data. Everything was made up of code, and he could see it all. It was no wonder he’d managed to trick himself into believing this world was nothing more than a game.

There was no code for him to write. Not here. This was the heart of the structure. The core. Its entire purpose for being. This had likely been the first place built, long before Wisetmon retreated to that strange other-place. Before Gennai’s order had given up, leaving the outer defenses unfinished.

It was complete. Save for one thing.

The Essence.

He could almost see the shape of it, looking at the code that would surround it. A power source. A familiar one. One that had his heart sinking into his stomach.

It was one he knew quite well.

A shaking hand left the keyboard, pulling out his D-3. The screen was glowing.

Oh. He knew it _very_ well.

His Dark Digivice had always been different.

_“Do you see now, chosen of mine?”_

Ken’s reflection shimmered in the glass. The ambient light shouldn’t have been enough to form a distinct one. Nor was this a natural reflection, given how the edges seemed to shine with a faint silver light. It blurred, shifting, yellow eyes shining where a face would be.

“Why would you _do_ this?” Ken whispered to that reflection, to the image of the Elemental of Steel. “You could _see—_ How could you _trust_ me with this?”

He’d… _abused it._ He’d used that power to strip digivolution from everyone. He’d used it to power the rings. The spires. He’d used it to _force_ a digimon against their will—

_“Yes. I could_ see. _I saw this scene before you now. A young man who survived his hardships, faced that which drowned him in guilt and pain to do what was right. Who_ else _would I lend my power to?”_

_My power…_

Something was gathering above his digivice. Data being given solid form. Silver code, like that which Kouichi had used to digivolve. Little bits and bars, clustered together, a tiny ball of power, hovering above his D-3. Text scrolled next to it in his vision, the lenses translating the code into something he could understand. It _fit._ But not quite. Almost. It was flickering. Flickering between a cluster of individual streams of code, and a solid silver sphere. Glass-like, yet opaque.

“A DigiCore.” The hiss came from behind him somewhere. Dorumon was climbing on to the top of the console. The gem in the center of his forhead was glowing in response to every flicker. To every growl. “I _knew_ there was something wrong with you lot! There was _no way_ a _human_ would have the ancient power of _Fire._ Not unless they _stole_ it. Who was it!? Who did you _kill?”_

_Kill?_

Before Ken could say anything in his defence—ask a question, anything—someone else spoke.

“Peace, Dorumon. A gift freely given is just that, a gift.”

There was someone beside him. Green flowing robes surrounding an ornate mirror. No longer a reflection on the glass, Ken turned his head, seeing himself reflected in the mirror’s body. The image of him wearing the glasses made Ken flinch, and he surpressed the urge to tear them off.

“The _mirror.”_ Dorumon hissed, backing up a few paces, bumping against the glass tubing. His claws scrabbled on the metal console, depressing random buttons and controls. Nothing happened. There was no power. Not yet. “ _You—_ I should have left when _he_ fell out of a mirror! _You abandoned us!_ You have _no right—”_

“I gave the warning.” Wisetmon replied calmly, floating in the Sanctum of Kindness—or should it really be _Steel?—_ but he wasn’t _completely_ there. Translucent. Ghost-like. “The madness was coming. If I hadn’t left, Lucemon would have still fallen.”

“You could have fought—”

“And where would that leave us? He would have destroyed me, just as he did Sphinxmon. Lucemon was _destined_ to fall. The others had already given their gifts, mine was the last. You must have felt it—the network is _failing.”_

That statement shut Dorumon up, his eyes narrowing to golden slits. Ken frowned, the statement ringing in the dead air. _Network? Failing?_

The monitors were flickering.

“It’s got somethin’ to do with the Sanctums, doesn’t it?” Daisuke. When had Daisuke come over? He hadn’t noticed the chosen had abandoned his watch over the monitors on the edge of the room. Not that it surprised him. No, what surprised Ken was that Daisuke hadn’t _said_ anything. He hadn’t demanded an explaination, or inserted himself into Wisetmon and Dorumon’s argument. Just…waited…and listened.

And Daisuke complained that _Ken_ was acting weird…

 _Maybe he’s just finally growing up._ A strange thought to be having about someone his own age, but it filtered through nonetheless, hovering in the background as he kept track of the fluctuations as well as the conversation between the other three. He just needed more data…

And what had Dorumon meant by a _DigiCore?_

And to accuse him of murder…

“You wouldn’t have wanted us to come here otherwise.” Daisuke continued, “If that _thing—”_

“It is a DigiCore, idiot.” Dorumon growled, “Show some respect to the dead.”

_…dead?_

His head exploded into pain, memories flooding forward.

_Data. He needed more data. Kimeramon would need to be_ perfect.

 _He had a plan. Take pieces of powerful digimon. Create the_ **ultimate** _one._

_But he couldn’t just_ cut off _Garurumon’s legs. The data would fracture. He needed a blueprint. But how. Could he pull up the digimon’s program? Copy the relevant bit?_

_But how. How._ How.

_“I—I’m not sure master.” Wormmon, that cowering, sniveling insect couldn’t even tell him. “Our data is our l-life. W-we can’t just pull it out.”_

_“Useless!” Ken snarled, aiming a kick at the small body—the green digimon bounced with the force, but he made no move to dodge. That always made him feel better. But only a little bit._

_He stalked out of the control room—the perfected image of his creation mocked him from the screen. A creation he couldn’t finish if he couldn’t find the relevant data!_

_Later he awoke to find himself slumped over his desk, papers spread across the surface, furious notes from his late night brainstorming session marring each page. He growled in frustration, moving his arm to sweep them on to the floor in a fit of fury—_

_There was something that didn’t belong. Three small orbs, glass-like, but opaque glittered before his eyes, a note folded and propped up, staring at him._

_“Master, here is the relevant data you requested. Kabuterimon. Angemon. and Garurumon. You have the data for the others in your databanks already, scanned and stored through the Dark Rings. Devimon is trickier, but…”_

_Perfect. At least_ one _of his servents was good for something. The note wasn’t signed, but he_ knew _it wasn’t Wormmon. He was_ useless.

_And he couldn’t write at all, much less legibly._

Those orbs.

Ken could see them in his mind. Clearly, sitting on the desk as if he were staring at it now.

Indigo. White. Blue.

Kabuterimon. Angemon. Garurumon.

_Have some respect for the dead._

_“Our data is our l-life. W-we can’t just pull it out.”_

He’d _killed_ those digimon. Maybe not directly, but they’d died. Somewhere out there. For nothing more than he needed their code for a _monster._

His hands were shaking. He stared at the flickering orb floating above his D-3. His vision was blurring, smudging the silver data into a blurr of color. He could taste salt. Tears. At least the darkened lenses would hide it. They were good for something.

_The dead…_

He took a shuddering breath, looking toward the large green blob that was Wisetmon.

“I received my digivice _three years ago.”_

He interrupted whatever it was they were talking about—he’d lost track during the flaskback. He saw the blob shift, the other two also focusing on him and the shining silver orb.

Wisetmon had said it was _his_ power. But if these were remnants…

“Yes.” The yellow eyes were boring it to his. He was translucent. _Like a ghost. “_ I died three years ago. I have existed out of time, in the world of dreams, until now.”

“ _Why?”_

“To join my siblings. To insure their sacrifices were not in vain.”

He held an Essence in his hands.

An ancient digimon’s soul.

The others. The other Essences…

“Outside of the spirit realm, I have little time.” He glanced at Dorumon. “I know why you are angry. I was to take Sphinxmon’s place. I could not. Had this Sanctum been completed, Lucemon would have destroyed it, and we wouldn’t have our chance now.”

Dorumon growled, and deliberately turned away.

Wisetmon watched him for a moment, before turning to Ken again. “Let us be done with this. Activating the Sanctum will help stabilize the network. The resulting power will allow you to help your friends as well.”

Images flashed in the reflected depths. A large golden dragon coiled around a stone column. A pink knight Ken had never seen, but had heard described often enough. Flamemon running through a corridor, stumbling through a door, slamming it behind him as his pursuers continued past.

And then…darkness. Red eyes pierced the gloom. Ken couldn’t see much else, but a flash of familiar red runes. The dark ring.

Ken tasted blood. He’d clenched his jaw so suddenly at the last image that he’d bit his cheek.

_“Do it.”_

Yellow eyes closed. The spirit’s form wavered. Dissolved. The data swirled together, every last shining bit streaming toward the half-finished Core in Ken’s hands.

It solidified the bright code within finally sealed from sight by the opaque shell. It settled heavily in Ken’s hands.

He didn’t need to look to know it was a perfect match now.

Ken clenched his hands around the orb.

He threw it at the glass column. He expected to hear shattered glass. Daisuke grabbed his arm before he could bring it down on the console.

 _Why did it have to_ be _like this?_

The orb passed through the glass like it was water, coming to a stop in the direct center. It floated there, shining with a pale light. Then it _exploded—_ swirling code rushing free of the confines, expanding to fill the entire structure.

Ken’s D-3 began to beep as the lights in the entire room began to shine. Steadily. Not the uncertain flicker he’d managed with the backup power. The output channels were full to the brim—so bright Ken had to take off his glasses to save his eyes. He didn’t need them anymore.

Wormmon stirred against his shoulder.

“Daisuke…” Veemon spoke up, looking down at his hands. He was fidgeting, unable to stand still. The red stone on his wrist was blazing with light, matching the intensity from the one on Dorumon’s head. The little fox-dragon let out a frustrated growl and shot off—out of the room. Up the stairs. Up and out. “I feel…funny. Gotta move. Out. Open space.”

They left as the Sanctum came online around them—the power flowing out into a world that hadn’t felt the likes of it in some time.

Wormmon woke up on the way out. Fully rested. Recharged even. Brimming with the same restlessness that suddenly possessed Veemon.

In another world, submerged in the data streams, Qinglongmon breathed a sigh of relief. The strain on him eased, another thread of energy joining the strained patterns. Helping to support it. One of his children had returned home. The others would follow—he knew it. But for now…this was enough.

Anubimon’s head snapped up. He could feel the shift in the energies. It wasn’t light. He recognized the signitures of all eight of the essences. This was something _else_.

Lillithmon broke off in the middle of her sentence, searching the sky for whatever it was her companion had sensed. She found a dark winged shape rapidly approaching from the South. From Anubimon’s domain, riding on the wind of ill news.

Among towers of blocks, Elecmon watched with joy as a spotted shell cracked.


	44. The Return to Highton View Terrace

“Daemon can’t make it M-master.” Mummymon cowered before the imposing figure of his master. He’d taken his time before returning—even following the trail of his beloved. He’d skulked outside the town, berating himself for not having the courage to walk in there and ask for her.

By the time he had, he’d only gotten a sneer and a dismissal. She’d left on ‘important business’ mere moments before.

 _Pumpkin…_ his heart wailed, and he hung his head—not to avoid Oikawa’s angry glare, but the ghost of white hair he would see hovering over his shoulder. Damning him. Arukenimon wouldn’t have failed. She wouldn’t have accepted Daemon backing out of the plan now.

“And why would he be doing that, Mummymon?” The human’s voice was cold, “Was my offer not…tantalizing enough?”

Mummymon wrung his hands nervously, tugging occasionally at the sleeve of his blue jacket, “I—uh—no? He said to send his regrets, but events unfolding in the Dark Area require his atten—”

“I don’t want _excuses,_ you worthless digimon!” Oikawa’s fist smashed into the table, wood splintering with force that betrayed his sickly looking face. “It is bad enough I cannot find the boy—I needed Daemon’s interference to distract and draw out the Chosen! Now is the perfect time to strike with their numbers reduced!”

Anger. This was the first time Mummymon had seen true _anger_ in the Master’s face. It twisted his expression. Ugly, and terrifying. Something lurked behind those eyes, something Mummymon had always known was there, but never truly understood before.

“I don’t know why I put up with your disgusting failures—maybe I should just create another servent. Yes. _Anyone_ could do better than you. _Anything_. Even a _rock._ ”

Mummymon flinched, turning away. He was used to being verbally abused. He was used to being torn apart. Was used to failing.

But never had the Master been so straightforwardly _harsh_ about it. He was always the bumbling, but tolerable lackey. That was _his_ place.

Not…this…with the responsibility.

He heard the human let out a frustrated sigh and stalk away, the creak of shoes on the worn wooden floor ringing in his ears. Mummymon turned his back on his master, eyes searching out the window. Dawn would be approaching. He could see it faintly, color seeping into the darkened sky. Another day, another disgustingly cheerful sunny day.

 _Just let it rain._ He thought bitterly, glaring at the sky with his one good eye, and then froze.

“M-master…”

“What is it?!” The irritated question was followed by the squeaking of wood again. Mummymon’s neck prickled with the chill of eyes on his back. The master was glaring.

“Just look.”

His hand was shaking as he indicated out the window.

The human moved to his side, looking for the sight that had Mummymon so enraptured.

And then he laughed, bitterly. “At least _one_ of you is good for something. What are you waiting for?”

Shadows against the coming dawn…

His heart fluttered…

x-x-x

Jou nodded somewhere between sleep and waking, the regular rocking of the train’s wheels on the tracks combined with the noisy clatter preventing him from using the commute as a nice little nap before class. His classes this term were on the outskirts of the city rather than the nice, centralized campus near his home, which led him to be here at this god-awful time of the morning.

“ _Ouch!”_ A particularly sharp jolt knocked his head against the window he’d been leaning against. He sighed and rubbed the sore spot, checking the reflection in the glass. It was hard to see given the dim lighting, but it appeared to be a little red, but otherwise there were no signs of bruising. Good. The last thing he needed were the well meaning, but somewhat patronizing attentions of the other doctors-to-be in his class.

And then he noticed that jolt had knocked his bag off the empty seat behind him, his books left sprawled beneath the seats.

“Great…” Jou grumbled, sliding off the chair and gathering up the ones within reach. Unfortunately a couple of the smaller and lighter ones had slid back under the seats further back, where he couldn’t reach from his current spot.

“…just great…” He sighed. This day was already looking up. Hopefully this just meant he had already paid his karmic dues for the day and would then ace his practical later. Winter term was almost up, and that meant exams.

Luckily, the car was pretty empty this early, the morning work and school rush not having begun yet. It would be awkward trying to gather them up in the packed anchovies people became during the normal commute. Not to mention the accusations of harassment if he so much as bumped a female the wrong way.

The closest people to him were standing near one of the doors, focusing on the scenery out the window. Two boys, a little younger than he was. High school maybel. What were _they_ doing out this early? Not that it mattered, they weren’t close enough to require him to awkward ask them to move.

One of the books was easily grabbed and placed on the seat. The second required him to shove his shoulder quite far under. It was at a really awkward angle—the seats weren’t that wide!

His reaching fingertips brushed the spine. Almost. There.

“…did you hear anything about construction on the news?”

“No. I mean that area _has_ been under rennovations since the terrorist attack, but it’s mostly apartment complexes, no highrises.”

“…festival maybe?”

“It’s an ominous looking one, if that’s the case. Normally you can see Tokyo Tower from here.”

Aha! He managed to hook his fingers around the corner of the book, nudging it closer until he could finally grab it.

“I’ll ask Juri later, she lives in Highton View Terrace. She’d probably know what’s going on.”

_Highton View Terrace?_

Jou flinched, biting his lip as the sudden movement action caught his arm against the edge of the chair. He straightened, book in one hand, the other massaging the sore spot. The gossipers were still looking out the eastern window, toward the rising sun and back toward Tokyo’s proper.

The book thudded to the floor, and Jou fumbled for his bag, rooting through it in vain before he remembered he kept his phone in the small cellphone-specific pocket on the side.

His hand was shaking as he dialed the number, ignoring Taichi’s grumbling that it was too early for this.

“There’s something you guys really need to see...”

The train kept rolling on, trundling further and further away. Jou almost wanted to jump off at the next stop and catch the next one back to investigate. But he had class, and then an exam, and he didn’t even have _Gomamon,_ what could he do about it?

“. _..Jou? You aren’t making any sense…Anyway, it’s like…five in the morning…whatever it is can wait until a time when people_ other than _overachievers are awake…”_

“Give me a minute.”

Jou hung up, kicking himself mentally for nothing thinking of this _before_ he called, and pointed the camera on his phone at the fading sight through the window.

He attached the photo to a text and sent it to Taichi. And Yamato. And Izzy.

Then he hit send.

Taichi called back a second later.

“ _Is that a Dark Spire!?”_

“No…” Jou responded as the train rounded a bend, blocking the nightmarish image from sight, “It’s at _least_ a hundred of them.”

_“A hund—Where is it? I’m going to go wake Hikari and help her in rounding up the kids. Could you call Yamato, Sora, and Izzy for me? Tell them to meet me at the station as soon as they can.”_

Words caught in Jou’s throat. _He wasn’t even going to ask me to go._ He couldn’t, of course. Not right now. But that _wasn’t_ the point. Yamato. Sora. Izzy. _Jou_ was part of the group too! Sure he hadn’t been able to hang out much and help the younger crowd…

_“…Jou?”_

“Ah right…uh…” Where…his eyes sought out the map of the subway, held carefully behind a plastic pane on the train’s wall. He traced the route, doing some mental calculations. It wouldn’t be directly on this line, especially if that nagging suspicion in his mind was correct.

_Highton View Terrace_

“The Nerima district. Hikarigaoka Station is probably the closest.”

“ _Thanks, Jou. And stop worrying. You’ve got a class to get to. Let us take care of this, this time. We wouldn’t even know if it weren’t for you.”_

Awkward silence. Jou could feel his face heating up in embarrassment—was he that obvious? He coughed, using his free hand to adjust his glasses, “Fine, fine. But I will be there after my exam if I don’t hear any news.”

_“Gotcha. You better ace that exam! Talk to ya later.”_

Jou forced himself to turn away from the window and began flicking through his contacts list _._ He may not be able to fight like the others, but he had his own job to do.

x-x-x

It was like looking into the snow covered valley where Arukenimon spun her web. Spires upon spires rose from the ground. Jutting from buildings. A forest of polished stone, foreign among the concrete and glass buildings of the Tokyo suburbs.

Where were the police? The news copters? It was early enough that there were few people out on the streets, yet the moment they’d stepped into the shadow of the obelisks it became a ghost town.

Could people not _see_ it? Were these apparitions, not quite fully manifested in the real world? The spires did not seem to smash through buildings—instead they seemed to meld through metal and glass.

“It’s _always_ Highton View Terrace…” Taichi grimaced as he spotted the sign half sticking out of the side of a spire, “This place has _gotta_ be cursed or something.”

“I’d believe that.” Yamato responded dryly, “I didn’t expect to head back there after last time.”

Last time. Hikari hadn’t been here for last time, but she’d seen it on the news.

A terrorist attack. Thought to be a sequel to the Hikarigaoka Bombings nearly five years before.

And according to Taichi—a rampaging mammoth.

“Cursed…? It’s nothing so superstitious as that.” Gennai chuckled, moving to fold his hands into his sleeves, and then stopped when he remembered he no longer had the sweeping sleeves of his robe. He was currently wearing some of Yamato’s father’s old clothes, a wrinkled button-down shirt and pants. It didn’t seem like anyone bothered to iron anything at the Ishida residence, “The place where you eight were chosen is where the border between worlds is at its weakest. There’s a natural digital gate there.”

“Gennai?” Hikari fidgeted, full of nervous energy, BlackKudamon’s holy cartridge digging into the palm of her hand. She felt… _wrong_ here. “Do you know how they got here?”

_How?_

_Why?_

And most importantly— _who._

Arukenimon had publicly denounced her previous ambition when she’d shifted her allegiance. It _wouldn’t_ be her. Right?

Chill hands clutched her heart. The metal in her hand began to warm in response.

This time BlackKudamon heeded her warning and remained hidden within the depths of the golden casing. But the warmth was comforting in its own way.

“Theories, but nothing concrete.” Gennai looked around, the wind teasing at his short hair. It was almost claustrophobic, navigating the narrow veins between building and spire. “The only explanation is that _something_ is weakening the barrier, allowing the digital world to push through.”

“…like File Island...”

Everyone stopped, turning to look at Izzy in surprise. The red-head blinked and smiled nervously under the scrutiny, “Ah, just thinking out loud. You guys remember right? After we defeated Vamdemon, when the digital world appeared in the sky?”

“Everyone could see that though.” Sora frowned, glancing back over her shoulder toward the invisible line that separated the distortion from the rest of the city. “No one seems to notice this, even if they avoid walking in.”

So Hikari wasn’t the only one bothered by that.

“Perception filter?” Izzy quipped, and at Yamato’s unimpressed stare he coughed and continued, “No, seriously. After we got home I did research. Aren’t you surprised the uproar over the _monster attacks_ died down so quickly? Even my own parents, who _met_ Tentomon, never remembered him as anything other than my old friend Tento with the ‘strange hoodie.’ It stands to reason the existence of the Digital World is hard for most people to process, so they just sort of ignore it. I postulate age has something to do with it—children are far more accepting—yet even you guys, Miyako and Iori, didn’t remember your run-ins with Digimon until you met your partners—”

“Izzy—”

“It doesn’t matter how.” Yamato snapped, “We just need to find a way to knock them down.”

The younger chosen looked at their digimon.

Patamon, who’d climbed to his customary spot on Takeru’s head the moment they’d entered the forest of spires.

Poromon, tucked under Miyako’s good arm. The injured one was free of its sling, but given the care she was using when gesturing, it wasn’t 100% yet.

Upamon, bouncing along at Iori’s side.

…and one more, BlackKudamon, hiding in Hikari’s fist.

Two rookies, and two in-training digimon.

“But we can only break the towers when we armor digivolve…” Patamon protested, clenching his front paw, wing-ears drooping.

And the digimentals had been stolen.

“You might not need to break them.” Gennai rapped his knuckles against the side of a nearby spire. It rippled, like a pebble dropped into a still black pond, “They are being pulled in by a distortion. Find the source of the distortion, and the worlds will snap back to their own place.”

“Great. We just need to comb an entire _district_ for a single housing complex and we don’t even know what for.” Miyako grumbled, “Might as well split up. Does anyone know the area well?”

“Well…we _used_ to live here…but…” Sora began, but shook her head, “I haven’t been back in years.”

“I never explored much as a kid, but I could probably triangulate our position with GPS and compare it to the maps…” Izzy pulled out his phone, one of the newer, fancy models, and fiddled with it. After a few moments, he sighed and smacked himself on the forehead, “…of course there is no signal…Interferance. Didn’t work during Vamdemon’s attack either.”

They all turned to Yamato and Taichi. Hikari’s brother put his hands up into the air, shaking his head wildly, “Don’t look at me! Do you think I remember things that far back?”

…fair enough. Yamato let out a suffering sigh, “My memory is fuzzy, but I could probably find our old apartment building if we can find the subway.”

They’d intended on using the Hikarigaoka station, which was closest to the apartment complex, but it, rather unsurprisingly, had been closed due to “unexpected maintenance.” The closest working one had been just outside the district but…once inside in was nearly impossible to navigate correctly.

“…no need. I think I have an idea.” Takeru, who had been quieter than usual, finally broke his silence. He started walking again, keeping a close eye on the street signs hidden in the narrow corridors. It hardly even looked like a city anymore, just a strange landscape that was more _cave._ Walls of stone, glass and concrete, twisting paths, forcing them off the main roads and into alleys to go around. Were they even in the real world still?

This was even surreal for the _Digital_ World. She’d only _ever_ seen this density of Dark Spires in one place.

That valley on the edge of the world. Hikari shivered—had she imagined that chill wind?

“I was here just a few days ago,” Takeru continued, eyes fixed on the path ahead, “So I remember how to get there from here.”

“What were you doing _here?”_ Miyako asked incredulously, “This is so far from home—and school…? You were at school—well, I don’t know about the day after I was in the hospital…”

“…Mummymon.” Miyako was rambling. Takeru’s reply shut her up. “I saw Mummymon. Followed him here. It’s too much of a coincidence that this is happening now.” Takeru paused, gritting his teeth and turning. Hikari hadn’t seen this sort of expression on Takeru’s face often. He smiled easily and was quick to laugh. Often he was the calmer of the boys—the foil to Daisuke’s brash hardheaded-ness. Not today “I _knew_ he was up to something!”

She stepped forward, ignoring the chill settling in her heart as she thought about Mummymon— _he was an idiot, but he never went anywhere without **Arukenimon**. _ Her free hand hesitantly settled on his shoulder. Takeru stiffened.

“…It’ll be okay, T.K.”

x-x-x

_It’ll be okay…_

Hikari’s words echoed in his head as he stared at the sight before him. This was the apartment complex alright—he’d been here not even three days ago.

Yet he almost couldn’t recognize it.

The entire place was draped with _cobwebs._

It could be another insect-type digimon, Takeru told himself, Arukenimon wasn’t the _only_ spider digimon they’d ever fought.

_But I followed Mummymon…_

Hikari was noticeably silent, her face had drained of color the moment they’d seen a wisp of web hanging off the tip of a broken spire waving in the wind. Takeru found her hand in his, squeezing it in support.

They weren’t ready for this. None of them were. None of them were ready to face her again.

They hovered on the edge of the courtyard, waiting in the shadow of a Dark Spire. The courtyard was the largest open space they’d seen so far. The black stone didn’t touch the ground between the buildings, even as the occasional spire jutted out at an angle over the space. It had deliberately been left clear.

Takeru, like Hikari, didn’t remember the actual event. He’d been too young. But he remembered flying over the scene during the vision, looking down on this space between the three buildings where Greymon and Parrotmon did battle.

Tailmon had been with them during that vision.

Parasimon would know what this place meant to the Chosen.

The open space felt like a _trap._

“…Where is everyone?” Iori whispered, eyeing the web wrapped buildings around them. Apartment high rises. Each with tons of units. Each unit housing families.

Hundreds of people. Even if Izzy was right about the perception field, that wouldn’t explain the people _trapped_ within it.

“Do not worry about them child…” The _wrong_ dual voice laughed, ringing out over the empty space, drawing all eyes, digimon and Chosen alike. Takeru’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. “They are merely _sleeping._ For now.”

 _She_ had been hiding among the webs on the far side, and they parted around her now, pushed aside by wicked purple claws. Spider legs snapped back, hanging over her shoulders, a mockery of angel wings.

_Angewomon…what has she done to you?_

Takeru couldn’t even _call_ her Angewomon anymore. The armor had shifted, color changing to match Parasimon’s carapace—no, it _was_ carapace.The clean metal lines of Angewomon’s armor were gone, leaving rough purple and green ridges. Arukenimon’s lank silver hair spilling from beneath the helmet, fanning out around her as she walked. Pulsing green markings—where once tendrils had bound the angel’s limbs—stood out starkly against pale purple skin, more metaphorical bonds now. Her scarf was gone.

White cloth had faded to black, save for a small bit stubbornly clinging to her fingertips on her right hand, surrounding a tiny, golden ring. A similar patch of white lingered around the holy ring on her ankle, although that one was almost gone, the ring itself fading to tarnished silver.

“ _Angewomon…”_ Hikari’s strangled word was nearly inaudible, but the monster standing in the courtyard just smiled.

“I missed you too, Hikari-dear.” Ruby red lips twisted into a fanged grin, “Now…I wouldn’t want to hurt a _friend,_ so I shall cut you a deal. Hand over the Essence, and I will leave, closing the gate behind me.”

The silence was heavy. After a moment she tilted her head, twirling a lock of silver hair around a clawed finger, “Refuse…I’m not sure you would like the consequences. Not with the amount of hostages around us. I did not come alone.”

Potentially hundreds of people.

_“They are merely sleeping…For now.”_

x-x-x

“She’s lying.” Gennai crossed his arms, “I do not sense any digimon other than her. The Dark Spires distort the barriers, but it takes _this many_ to support a digimon of her power. She has no back up.”

The argument broke out around her, many different voices.

“We can’t risk it! If she’s right and there _are_ people in there…” Sora.

“And even if she’s lying, a battle could be just as dangerous to the surroundings.” Iori.

“If only we had a way to trap her—“ Izzy.

“Hell, even a way to fight _back!_ ” Miyako. “We don’t even know if _that_ will work!”

“Maybe we should just give _it_ up. We can’t afford to fight here—” Yamato.

“Hell no, we’re not doing that!” Taichi. “We can’t give up! We have to try!”

“Easy for you to say—your digimon isn’t at risk here!”

“Hikari…”

Takeru. His hand was holding hers. She focused on that, and not on the twisted not-Angewomon out there, watching their argument with a knowing smile. A twisted smirk. One that shouldn’t belong on that face. It was still Angewomon’s face.

_Tailmon…_

She wouldn’t want this.

Tailmon was there. Somewhere.

 _“The traitor is crying.”_ BlackKudamon hissed in her ear, his holy cartridge warm in her hand. He was a nearly invisible shimmer along her arm, easily blending into the shadow cast by the Dark Spire, “ _BlackKudamon can hear her despair. She is fading.”_

A black stain spread across the white fur.

Two tiny white patches, almost swallowed by black.

_This is the last chance._

“…can I trust you?”

It was whispered. Takeru blinked. Confused. He thought she was talking to him.

_Can I trust you to help me? To not take revenge?_

BlackKudamon solidified, his weight wrapping around her arm, head resting on her shoulder. Sharp magenta claws gently rested on Hikari’s cheek, startling a suspicious Takeru.

“ _BlackKudamon swore. For the Light, he will fight for Hikari.”_

_“For Hikari…he will even fight to save the Traitor.”_

Hikari nodded. And closed her eyes. She took a deep, breath, trying to calm her pounding heart.

The argument continued around them. Ange—no, Parasimon content to enjoy the show. At this rate she wouldn’t even have to do anything and she knew it.

“I will fight.”

Hikari’s declaration knifed through the squabble, leaving silence in its wake. She opened her eyes, looking into the incredulous and concerned faces of her brother and her friends.

“We will fight too; right Patamon?” The digimon sat up on Takeru’s head, tiny paw fist pumping the air. Takeru gave Hikari a tired smile, “I’ll always be here to support you.”

… _thanks TK…_

“Oh that’s too bad…” Ange—Parasimon pouted. At some point she’d floated into the air, lounging, the shadow of black wings hovering over the spider claws. She stretched now, “Do you truly wish to fight me, Hikari-dear? Even with all of our…history?”

“It’s _because_ of our history that I have to!” She reached for every ounce of confidence she had and stepped forward, out of the shadows and into the courtyard ringed by webbed buildings and looming spires. She couldn’t waver now.

“And _how_ would you fight me? That _rat_ sitting on your shoulder? _I’m_ your digimon, Hikari-dear. Without me you are _nothing.”_

BlackKudamon hissed. Hikari bit her lip, nails digging into the palms of her hand. She couldn’t let it get to her. She’d _heard_ all this before. From herself. Staring into that face, twisted into a sneer, but still so heart wrenchingly recognizable…“You are _all_ worthless without me. The strongest of the Chosen Digimon…Rookies and pests, that’s all you are!”

“You…” The words slipped out, nothing more than a whisper “Are _not_ Angewomon.”

“Angewomon would know the truth.”

“Light is powerful, true.” She squeezed Takeru’s hand, “But it is _nothing_ without Hope. Without our _friends!_ ”

Time and time again, when things seemed the bleakest…

“Gennai!” Takeru turned, “We _have_ to try.”

The older man frowned, and then nodded slowly.

The azure orb formed between his hands, sparkling in the rising sun.

It exploded into rainbow light. Digivices that hadn’t been lit for so long blazed to life with their respective color. Even the elder chosen, who had no digimon to digivolve. The digimon disengaged from the children, instinctually finding enough space for their evolution.

_“Patamon digivolve to…”_

_“Upmamon digivolve to…”_

_“Poromon digivolve to…”_

BlackKudamon hesitated, the rainbow shimmering along his shadowed body. Hikari’s digivice was glowing a soft, gentle pink.

“… _BlackKudamon lost his Holy Ring. Lost his right to the Light. He does not deserve the god’s power...”_

“What did I just say? You need to have _hope.”_ She felt suddenly…lighter, as if a heavy weight lifted from her chest. She poked him on the nose, those golden eyes going wide in astonishment, “Isn’t that why you came to me in the first place?”

Hope for purification. For redemption. To put an end to the nightmares of the past.

In the end, that was what the trip to Vemdemon’s castle was about.

Those haunted eyes closed; the black shape faded from her sight. A burst of rainbow light answered her digivice’s glow, emenating from the bullet casing in her hand.

_BlackKudamon digivolve to…_

Ange—Parasimon tsked and rose in the air, translucent wings dark splotches against the red sky, “I warned you—you won’t like the consequesces. I don’t _need_ minions.”

She held out her hand, the black glove elongating into a feathered bow. An arrow of sickly purple light forming in the other. She spun in the air, aiming at one of the surrounding buildings. At the people sleeping unaware inside.

_“Celestial Arrow!”_

It shattered against a golden barrier.


	45. What Tangled Webs We Weave

“Good timing, HolyAngemon…” Takeru breathed a sigh of relief, the golden barrier absorbing another shot as the six winged angel rose into the sky, metallic wings radiating light. That had been the fastest evolution he’d ever _seen_ Patamon perform, nearly skipping Angemon entirely.

He wasn’t the only one; Aquilamon soon joined him, the airborne digimon rushing to harry the clearly frustrated ParaAngewomon. He was only a champion, so it wasn’t a surprise when the fallen angel went straight for HolyAngemon.

The transluscent purple sword slid out of HolyAngemon’s gauntlet, the digimon’s wings beating as he surged forward toward his opponent. The last time Takeru had seen that sword was when the Dark Masters had been defeated.

 _He can’t—_ But no, HolyAngemon wouldn’t use Heaven’s Gate. Not against Angewomon. There was no coming back from that.

Unfortunetly, Parasimon dodged the swing in mid-air, a sharp downward sweep propelling her out of HolyAngemon’s trajectory. She had the range advantage on HolyAngemon, and she knew it. Aquilamon roared, a burst of energy radiating from the curved tips of his horns as the giant bird stooped, dropping like a stone into Parasimon’s path. The darkened angel spun, clapping her hands together and firing a line of sickly purple energy towards the charging bird, forcing Aquilamon to cut the dive short or run head first into a corrupted Heaven’s Charm. He’d already been singed by one of her attacks, the blacked tips of his flight feathers a testament to that.

She had obviously been practicing. He shivered as he remembered the puppet-like motions of Angewomon when she’d first been taken over. Now…it was worse. She was quick. Agile. Powerful.

 _“Blast Laser!”_ The red rings shot out, blurring from the speed and distance.

“Pitiful!” Ange—Parasimon crowed, her black glove elongating and a purple arrow forming in her other hand. “A _champion_ only and you dare to challenge _me?”_

The Celestial Arrow pierced the red energy, dissipating it immediately. It was going too fast—Miyako’s scream tore the air.

“ _Aquilamon!”_

The energy shattered against HolyAngemon’s shield, the angel grunted, “Go. It’s too dangerous for you.”

He snapped his beak in anger, “I will not abandon you—”

_“Go!”_

“Miyako!” Takeru grabbed the girl’s attention, shaking her shoulder, “Call him back! That makes three close calls already!”

Ankylomon had it much worse—he’d had arrows upon arrows rained down on him, driving him outside the golden dome that encased the courtyard—it appeared to only stop attacks, which was lucky enough as it was, the battlefield would be surrounded by hostages otherwise.

The large dinosaur-like digimon didn’t have any ranged attacks to join in on the mad aerial match, and Aquilamon had only managed to survive _this_ long without getting hit because he was _fast._

“ _Aquilamon that’s enough! Fall back!_ ” The girl shouted, Ankylomon’s much larger lungs echoing the cry to help the message carry. The dinosaur currently sat at the edge of the barrier, tail lashing impatiently, leaving huge dents in the concrete where the spiked ball smacked into it. There would be some interesting battle scars in the road come tomorrow. Miyako clenched her fists as Aquilamon peeled away from the fight—singed and battered. In the end Champion digimon didn’t fare well in a battle between ultimates, much less against an ultimate supported by a mega. “ _Why?_ Just a little bit more, and we’d be able to fight! Why could only Patamon digivolve to Ultimate?”

“A digimon who has held a form before, takes less energy to assume it again.” Gennai continued to hold the inert orb, watching the battle critically. He seemed focused on the golden light that surrounded the courtyard—a wall that flickered each time a purple bolt smashed into it. “Plus, the power used to free Qinglongmon was that of Hope and Light. Miyako. Iori, have Aquilamon and Ankylomon start clearing out the Spires. HolyAngemon’s barrier won’t last forever.”

“But you said we didn’t need to worry about them?” Yamato sounded a little…frosty at that. Right, destroying the spires had been his suggestion in the first place, which Gennai had turned down.

“I hadn’t anticipated the main source of the distortion to be Parasimon.” Gennai nodded toward the battling angels, “Short of killing her, our best shot is to destroy enough Spires so that she cannot use them to prop the gate open any longer.”

A second Celestial Arrow smashed into the barrier near them, the soothing golden light blinking out for a split second before stuttering in again.

“…HolyAngemon won’t be able to defeat her.” Hikari. Her voice was soft, but resigned. She hadn’t looked away from the battle once, not since Taichi had to drag her out of the dangerzone. Takeru felt a burst of irrational anger at the dark shadow he knew that was hiding in the small metal bit clenched in the center of her curled fist. The weasel had spoken big about helping, and then chickened out when the time came for it. It still glowed, as did Hikari’s digivice, but _nothing_ was happening. “They are two sides of the same coin…we need something to tip the balance.”

Not something, but _someone_.

But Ankylomon couldn’t reach the battle, and Aquilamon too vulnerable. BlackKudamon was useless. He spoke big, and then failed to deliver when it was needed.

“Hey, Gennai—” Izzy spoke up now, “What will happen if we destroy enough spires? Will it throw her back into the Digital World?”

The man nodded, “And once in the Digital World, we may be able to call reinforcements, not to mention ensuring the safety of the humans around here.”

“Then why didn’t you keep the blasted thing there in the first place?” Yamato retorted, irritatedly. The crash of Aquilamon and Ankylomon leveling some of the nearby spires resounding in their ears, “If you knew this would happen—”

“I _didn’t_ Yamato!” Gennai rounded on the blonde, “I didn’t know any of Anubimon’s minions could cross into the human world! Normally digimon require specific circumstances to cross the worlds, such as Vamdemon’s gate. The sheer number of spires are weakening the protections here _.”_

_“_ I don’t _know_ everything.” The man sighed, sinking back against the concrete wall of a building.

Takeru grit his jaw and turned back to the fight.

x-x-x

_HolyAngemon…_ ParaAngewomon thought, flitting out of the way of another swordstrike. The sword to her bow. The light to her sweet twisted darkness…

Too bad he was too _slow._

The strikes were pathetically easy to dodge, and she knew he wouldn’t use the one move she wouldn’t be able to survive.

  1. She would have no such qualms.



_Heaven’s Charm!_

The purple energy drove him back, screwing up his attack trajectory. The problem with swords was that he had to get close. She wouldn’t let him do that.

 _See, little kitten? Even your friend will turn on you._ She couldn’t help the taunting. The despair was delicious. She still savored the weak spikes of shock and betrayal to see that dark shape wrapped around Hikari’s shoulders. Knowing that she’d been replaced, and by _that_ vermin of all things…

_“You…aren’t Angewomon.”_

That memory of that comment wrankled her. She essentially was. Angewomon was an open book. Even that small splinter of will that continued to resist was fading, cracking, drowing under despair.

She dropped in the air, folding her wings and shooting out with her spider claws, the sharp tips raking across HolyAngemon’s arm. She heard the pained hiss as she passed, drawing a smile to her face.

 _I have the advantage._ She spun, following up with a quick drawn arrow at the digimon’s exposed back. It wasn’t as powerful as a fully charged one, but the speed made up for it, not giving HolyAngemon any chance of moving. The purple energy slammed directly into him, knocking him forward, tumbling in the air before smashing into the concrete below. She _reveled_ in the sight, the mighty angel, a crumpled heap before her, struggling to stand.

 _See, my pet? We work so_ well _together._

She hummed contentedly at the fading sense of misery. Soon. Soon that nagging feeling would be gone and victory would be hers, completely and utterly.

And she knew just how to stamp it out for good.

_Heaven’s Charm!_

She tweaked the energy before she released it, easing off some of the sheer destructive power and adjusting the energy matrix to something more…familiar to her. The band of sickly energy shot at HolyAngemon, catching him as he tried to leap into the air again. It didn’t disentigrate on contact like Heaven’s Charm usually did, this time it constricted, much like the web-based attacks she knew so well. The momentum threw HolyAngemon to the ground again, only this time he could not rise. Wings and arms were bound tightly to his sides by an energy tether that solidified and changed, dimming to reveal a tightly wound wad of black spider web.

A new technique. Lovely.

A mere thought and a beat of her wings and she even higher, directly above the pinned angel. Shadowed wings spread wide, she summon her bow, pouring as much energy as she had—Parasimon increased the power of their hosts, and Angewomon was powerful as it was—into the arrow. It was so dark and concentrated that it was almost light. It was wild. This much power was hard to control, but she had the time now. She had the time to wait and let it stabilize. The bird wouldn’t be fast enough, even as she saw Aquilamon’s partner dash away from the group to fetch the other two.

A second human broke away, a boy this time. Of course. HolyAngemon’s partner. He was racing to his digimon’s side. So much the better. Two birds with one arrow.

The wild energy settled. The boy knelt beside the trapped angel. ParaAngewomon loosened her grip.

_“TAKERU!”_

She would know that voice anywhere. Deep within her, a shred of Angewomon recoiled. ParaAngewomon only smiled. Savoring the moment, basking at the iminant victory.

And loosed the arrow.

x-x-x

“TAKERU!” Hikari screamed again, Yamato and Taichi restraining her from running out there herself. She knew Yamato was just as torn up as she was, if not more. But he’d missed his grab on his brother, and he wasn’t about to let her join him.

The impact had thrown up a blaze of black energy, shooting up into the sky, punching through the flickering golden barrier. A tower of anger and hate and death— _ohgodsTakeruwas_ in _there—_ concrete torn from the courtyard, thrown haphazardly around while ParaAngewomon hovered in the air and _laughed._

The barrier flashed as concrete debris bounced off it, settling in small rebound patterns in front of it.

_The barrier._

It was still up! That meant HolyAngemon—

They _had_ to be okay. They _had_ to.

It flickered as the rain of stone slowed, the massive tower of power burning itself out. Water sprayed into the air like some twisted fountain, the attack had gouged a massive hole in the concrete, probably rupturing one of the city’s water lines. The liquid mixed with the plume of dust—vaporized concrete?—that made the entire area look like a wasteland, flashing back to painful half remembered memories of the Hikarigaoka Bombings.

She had to ignore it. The barrier was still up; the hole above the smoking crater was even steadily shrinking, reforming the protective shell. She was scanning the smokey sky desperately. HolyAngemon _must_ have escaped, grabbing Takeru and moving them out of the way. But no. There was nothing except for the triumphant Parasimon, crowing her victory to the world above the smoking destruction she’d caused.

Her resolve cracked, her knees buckling. But she didn’t slump to the ground. She _refused_ to give in to despair— _notTakeru—_ not while there is even the barest sliver of hope. The grips on her arms didn’t leave, and she even felt a third hand settle on her shoulder. Gennai. Too big to be Iori’s, and Miyako hadn’t returned yet. She didn’t need to look up to see the cold grief and rage on Yamato’s face, or the disbelief of her brother. She could feel it in their hands, in Yamato’s crushing grip, in Taichi’s sudden slackening, the way it slid from her arm and would be curling into a fist at his side.

_“Traitor…”_

The familiar growl almost seemed to resonate.

“ _As I thought,_ e _ven **you** could not be so far gone to do such a thing.” _

A gust of wind blasted out from the courtyard, forcing Hikari to shield her eyes from the flying dust and stones and water carried on the sudden outburst. It also caused the others to let go to shield their own faces, the sudden lack of support leading her to stumble forward a moment, before catching herself and searching frantically for the source. Kudamon. That sounded almost like Kudamon.

And then she realized, she’d lost his holy cartridge. Her hands were empty.

But it…wasn’t Kudamon. She almost thought it was Pegasusmon, standing in the center of a much smaller golden bubble. Equine in body shape, with wings spread wide. Protecting. The golden shield pulsed outward from a ruby red horn on the beast’s forehead.

 _“_ The barrier hadn’t been HolyAngemon’s _at_ _all.”_ The realization was staggering, and Gennai’s voice was quiet, almost…awed. “Tylinmon… I have never truly seen one, the last recorded sighting was in _ancient_ times. But they were well known for their pacifism, never entering battle unless to protect another.”

Hikari tore out of there before the others could realize her intentions. Before she’d even processed them herself, in fact. She was through the golden bubble, stumbling among the rubble covered courtyard that barely even resembled the ordered and modern Human World any more. Only the hazy outlines of the apartment buildings beyond the shield reassured her that she hadn’t been transported to another world. Parasimon’s laughter had fallen silent, but her attention seemed completely riveted on the digimon standing defiantly before them.

“So…even the rats find the courage to scurry out of the shadows eventually.” She sneered, spreading her ethereal wings of shadow wrapped around magenta claws. She clapped her hands together where they glowed with the same odd purple-black energy that had struck down HolyAngemon, but instead of forming a band, it split into smaller orbs, one on each hand, “Fine then. I will just have to defeat you as well, and kill that last fading irritating shred of hope for redemption. The Warrior of Light? _Gone._ Hope? The pile of shredded feathers behind you is almost laughable. And now you, the filthy little rat. I’m surprised you even have half the wit to speak to me, given I last saw you screaming gibberish as you ran away.”

 _“Don’t speak as if you know me, you filthy insect.”_ Tylinmongrowled, the spun gold of his tail fluffing out in agitation. Emerald green armor glittered in the sun, “ _I spoke not to you, parasite. I spoke to the one you hold captive.”_

“She is _dead!”_ Parasimon shrieked, “I have made her _mine!”_

The digimon’s expression didn’t change, masked as his face was by the green armor, but the smug smirk was obvious in his voice. “ _If Vamdemon could not stamp the fight out of her, then what chance do you think **you** have? It was not you who stayed your strike **just** long enough for me to intervene.”_

Parasimon’s wings flared like a ruffled chicken, and she threw her arms wide, shouting as she spun, the energy pooling in her palms flaring as she did so, “I don’t **need** to stamp out it out. I just need to take _everything else away_!”

“ _Dark Binding!”_

Of the two shots, only one was not aimed toward Tylinmon or those he guarded in that tiny golden bubble. It went wide, erratic, thrown off to the side and away from the battle.

With a sinking feeling, Hikari realized it was headed straight for her.

x-x-x

It seemed to move in slow motion for Tylinmon. He’d anticipated the attack, had provoke it even, trying to keep her attention on him rather than the idiot girl who had just dove head first into the battle zone.

He hadn’t expected her to _split it._

The weakened shot wouldn’t even make a dent in his shield, he knew. Just as he knew he was fast enough to reach Hikari and protect her if he tried.

But if he did, it would leave HolyAngemon and the other human vulnerable. Most of his concentration was on keeping the area contained. The moment he moved this much smaller shield would collapse.

The god’s power and his fledgling bond with the chosen still buoyed him, keeping the gnawing darkness at bay. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He could feel it eating at him even now, could feel the clarity of mind brought on by the light of the digivolution start to waver at his sudden spike of fear and uncertainty, the wavering of his confidence letting the darkness—and insanity—seep back in.

If Hikari died…Angewomon would not be the only casualty today. Tylinmon’s hard fought sanity would die with her.

Tylinmon hissed, making his decision and gathering his energy to dash. She was his priority. HolyAngemon might be wounded, but he would likely survive such a weakened blow, and even if he didn’t, he would protect his human.

His…partner.

Tylinmon had been alone for so long… It was a very odd concept to think in such terms.

HolyAngemon rolled in the impact crater, his limbs were still bound, but he deliberately put his back to the oncoming attack, his much larger body curling protectively around the vulnerable human unconscious amongst the cracked concrete and busted water lines.

Tylinmon dashed.

The small shield dissolved behind him.

Hikari threw herself to the ground, covering her head for the impact. The missile was too fast for her to outrun.

Tylinmon happened to be faster.

He snatched her clothing in his teeth, dragging her to her feet. Her hands tangled instinctively into his mane, he half knelt, lowering his shoulder enough to shove her awkwardly over his neck and back. He didn’t have time to set up another shield. The moment her feet were off the ground, he _moved_ , wings folded against his back to lessen the air resistance.

The sizzling purple energy just clipped the tip of his tail, leaving strings of black webbing trailing behind him. The afterimage flickered and vanished as the attack connected and fizzled, concrete cracking under the force—minimal to a digimon, but potentially fatal for a human—and leaving a dark mass of webbing steaming in the small impact crater.

The whistling of air was his only clue, and Tylinmon didn’t even have the chance to look. He flared his wings to suddenly kill his forward momentum, and then jumped to the side, a purple arrow crashing into the path he _would_ have taken. Hikari was shouting something but it was lost in the wind, and he was suddenly aware that a human wouldn’t be _used_ to such speeds. They were fragile.

 _What if **he**_ _hurt her?_

But he didn’t have the chance to think about it as he was forced to the sky, Parasimon’s cool façade splintered into shards at her feet, hatred marring that once pretty face as she fired arrow after arrow at him. He was forced to rely on the sensation of arms around his neck, of the weight on his back, to reassure him that he hadn’t thrown Hikari by accident. She’d managed to find a stable position, at least. Her intial one had been haphazard and precarious.

Tylinmon couldn’t afford to worry about that as the furious arrows continued to rain from the sky.

x-x-x

“C’mon Aquilamon, we don’t have time!” Miyako urged from her perch on the large reddish-brown bird’s back, warily watching the arial battle above them. Her partner merely grunted, unable say a coherent word due to the mass of webbing in his beak.

He was tearing insessently at the threads covering HolyAngemon. He almost looked like some grotesque statue, that last attack had nearly coated him in the tough strands of spiderweb. Miyako fretted. Takeru was under there somewhere. What if they couldn’t _breathe?_

 _Why did you run_ out _here, Takeru?_ She thought furiously, alternating between following the skirmish in the sky and Aquilamon’s progress on de-mummifying the angel. At least he hadn’t dedigivolved—the entire mass would have collapsed then, and trying to find the two much smaller bodies would be far more like looking for a needle in a haystack.

She didn’t really even need to ask the question. She knew why. His partner had been in danger, with no back-up. Miyako had run to get Aquilamon, but even they wouldn’t have made it back in time to do anything.

 _But what can_ we _do? We’re so small. Useless._

Aquilamon’s strong muscles rippled beneath her as he worked furiously. Her fingers clenched tighter around his feathers. Takeru was buried beneath a mountain of webbing. And Hikari was a hundred feet in the air, clinging to the back of that… _thing_ going at speeds even _Aquilamon_ couldn’t match.

Miyako wouldn’t even be able to _see_ the weird digimon if it weren’t for the momentary after images left behind. They lingered in the air just long enough for there to be three or four at a time, a strange armored winged beast, and poor Hikari with her head hidden in its mane, hunched between those wide white wings.

How that…that _rat_ had digivolved into such a majestic looking creature she would never understand. She knew she was being unfair, but it left a sour taste in her mouth knowing that even _BlackKudamon_ was capable of helping, while she and Aquilamon were relegated to clean-up duty.

The rumble of crumbling stone in the distance, the deathkneel of another spire. Ankylomon was still doing work, wrecking mighty havoc on the spires infesting the district. Hopefully only the spires—she’d tried to impress on him the importance of leaving the buildings intact. There could be people inside.

Luckily, the spires still broke into black particles of data and vanished like they did in the digital world, so they wouldn’t have to worry about rubble.

“Move.”

The muffled voice had Aquilamon hopping away, the torn mass of webbing shuddering as the angel within suddenly straightened. A purple sword flashed out, shearing through the already torn mass of threads. Miyako couldn’t help but admire the runes engraved along the length of the blade, faint lines of power. She had seen it earlier of course, but it had been from a distance.

The sheared threads fell away, and HolyAngemon eased up slowly, wings unfurling and shaking, trying to throw off the heavy sticky webbing. The sword flashed, again and again, more and more of the dark threads falling into heaps on the ground. Miyako slid off Aquilamon’s back, scrambling down to the small (in comparison) body of one of her best friends.

 _Pleeeeease be alright._ The thought whirled through her head, chunks of broken concrete tumbling down around her, dislodged by her descent. She knelt beside Takeru, ignoring the puddle of water that had gathered in the bottom of the crater, soaking her pants, not to mention Takeru entirely. The water had stopped squirting by now—finally someone at the ulitity depart decided to cut off the flow or something, she didn’t care—but there was a small lake down here. They were only lucky it wasn’t deep enough to cover the boy completely.

He looked like he was breathing, but Miyako didn’t truly feel relief until she found a pulse and checked him over for any obvious injuries. No blood. No sign of a head injury. Why was he unconscious? Fainted? The force of impact? She didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. Too many variables and she just _didn’t know._

“Get him to safety, please.” HolyAngemon’s tired voice floated down to her, cutting through the downward spiral her thoughts had taken. He seemed haggard, even his movements slow as he eased himself to his feet. He hadn’t managed to cut all of the webbing, it hung from him like black moss, clinging to feathers, cloth, and armor alike. But he’d freed up his limbs and his wings, enabling movement again. His helmet tilted up, toward Parasimon and the weird horse, and even _that_ movement seemed sluggish, “I must help them.”

Aquilamon glided slowly into the space HolyAngemon vacated, obligingly raising a talon out of the water for Miyako to maneuver the unconscious boy into. Her left arm throbbed with the exertion, but she ignored it. Luckily there wasn’t anything _physically_ wrong with it, just pain. Just annoying, nagging pain.

She didn’t have the strength or the time to climb back onto her partner’s shoulder after that, so she grabbed onto his other talon with her good arm. She turned to HolyAngemon as Aquilamon began to flap his wings, again and again, somehow managing to take off from a dead stand still, and with only one talon. That always amazed her.

“Why haven’t you dedigivolved yet?” The question was whispered as Aquilamon lifted her and Takeru away, and she could swear she could see tired smile on the angel’s face as they wheeled away.

Their digimon had dedigivolved from less damage. What was keeping HolyAngemon standing?

If he answered she couldn’t hear it, lost in the wind of flight as Aquilamon carried them away from the battlefield, out of the golden barrier and into Yamato’s frantic care.

HolyAngemon merely looked up into the sky for a few moments, and then rose from the ground, sword glittering. Loose black strands still clung to him, but others fell away, raining back to the broken ground as he moved to join the battle once more.

x-x-x

ParaAngewomon was getting annoyed. More than annoyed.

She didn’t normally get angry. She was always in control. She taunted. She _used_ other digimon’s anger to her advantage. But something about seeing Hikari on _that_ digimon’s back infuriated her. It made her want to shoot them out of the sky, but they were too fast. And the _afterimages._ They surrounded her. Taunting her. Each one had an image of the girl’s pleading blue eyes from over the digimon’s shoulder, hurt and staring up at her.

How _dare_ she feel betrayed? _She_ was the one flying around with that—

Why would ParaAngewomon _care?_ She should be laughing, lording it over the shreds of her host that her partner had given up on her. That she’d chosen another. Just as she’d done earlier.

But seeing them fight together like that. Seeing him _digivolve_ like that…

But she didn’t care. Hikari was a tool, a weapon to use against Angewomon. A weak link in the chain of the Chosen Children, one to pick at until it shattered, damaging the others in the process.

She shouldn’t be _jealous._

She wouldn’t feel betrayed at the proof that Hikari had given up on her. Replaced her.

It shouldn’t be eating her up inside, a roiling vat of poison, wearing away at her concentration and pushing her towards an almost berserker-like rage.

Parasimon shouldn’t care. _Angewomon_ did.

 _What are you **doing?**_ She hissed at the coiled mass of anger. It wasn’t _her._ Clouding her judgment. Wasting time and energy. She _knew_ those would be afterimages. All she needed was to figure out the direction and speed and shoot a binding ahead—

But no. She couldn’t think through the cloud of burning rage. Parasimon tried to distance herself from the splintered shards that had once been Angewomon, shoving the petulant remnants back into obscruity. It should be easy; she’d already absorbed the digimon’s data into her own. Taken her memories. Her power. All that was left was a ghost in her own mind. A ghost that should be drowning in despair and too beaten down to do anything but die.

**_“NO.”_ **

Instead of the weak, nebulous consciousness Parasimon was used to suppressing, concrete resistance rebuffed the motion. What’s more, that mass of anger used the attempt to latch onto her, claws glinted in the depths of her soul, digging in deep and refusing to let go. They were too close. Parasimon had tied the bond too tightly in her attempts to assimilate the mind of her host, and now she was paying the price. She couldn’t pull free. Amber eyes flashed her mind, wild and angry.

_“You’ve been doing your best to beat me down. To break me. Well, you can **have** it all. Every. Last. Bit. Of. It.”_

Everything Angewomon had been holding back, hidden in the growing darkness of their soul. Every shred of anger. Every strand of guilt. Every little _inch_ of pain and despair. The weakening of Angewomon’s light _hadn’t_ been Parasimon’s doing.

She’d _used_ the darkness. Used it to hide. To nurture the fire of anger that assaulted her now.

 _You threw it **away**! _ Parasimon realized. In order to hide she had _intentionally_ given up her light _._ Hoarded all the negative feelings. Parismon never would have known. She’d looked for the light when searching for Angewomon, not this seething mass of darkness and hate.

A predatory grin flashed in her mind. No. This wasn’t Angewomon. Angewomon wouldn’t have been able to bend like this. She was too good. Too pure. She would have broken before intentionally falling to the dark.

Golden eyes, slitted, like a cat.

_“You never had a chance to break me.”_

_“I was already broken. All your taunting only made me **angry.** ”_

**ANDIWON’TLETYOUHURTTHEMAGAIN!**

The arrow fizzled in her hand; ParaAngemon held her head in her hands, screaming as the foreign emotions assaulted her. She’d prepared for _this_! She’d slowly worn down her host. She’d buried the remaining shreds under as much as much despair and depression as she could. She would _own_ Angewomon, body and soul, before she ever approached a conflict of interest, especially attacking her friends. She’d even tested it with the prisoner in the cells, the one Angewomon seemed to have an odd affection for, and only had to deal with faint echoes of despair.

And she _did_ own Angewomon. Everything had gone according to plan.

“ _I’m good at biding my time before turning on my masters, **Parasimon.** Remember that.”_

It was _Tailmon_ she hadn’t taken into account.

The poor little kitty, abandoned and alone.

Raised under Vamdemon’s whip. Forced to turn against her very nature, working as an agent of evil.

The Traitor who turned her back on the master she’d served all her life. Who abandoned her very way of life to protect a single child, even as it assured the death of her dearest friend.

ParaAngewomon didn’t even have the time to flinch as arms wrapped around hers, pulling her back against a strong chest. Silver wings curled around her, trapping her in something between an embrace and a hold. She thrashed, Parasimon’s attention torn between Tailmon’s mental bombardment and the situation she was in. Confused. Her claws flailed, leaving deep scratches along HolyAngemon’s battered armor. He didn’t flinch. Merely bowed his helmeted head, resting it against hers.

“I heard you…” His whispered words were not meant for her. The raging storm within stilled, giving ParaAngewomon a moment of clarity, a respite from the emotional bombardment. She snarled, throwing her head back, smashing it into HolyAngemon’s helmet. She heard the metal crack, could feel the pain blossom in her own head from the impact. It had to have been worse for him. He was _weaker_ than she. Yet, he refused to release her from the embrace.

And then the fury returned, the momentary rush of positive emotion not enough to douse it completely, especially not after what she had just done.

 _“I. Told. You. Not. To. Harm. Them!”_ Mental claws dug in deeper with each word, drawing their souls closer, sending sharp waves of pain to mingle with the continuing ache from her ill-fated headbutt. Parasimon tried to pry them out, push them away. She was the Mega here. She wouldn’t lose to a weak human loving rookie. She would _crush_ the other. The body was hers, and she would _never_ give it back.

Echoing laughter, “ _You think I care? I don’t need it. I just need to distract you long enough.”_

x-x-x

Even knowing they came from Parasimon, the snarls and pained shrieks chilled Hikari to the core. Or perhaps it was _because_ of it, knowing as she did who Parasimon was possessing. She hadn’t seen much before HolyAngemon caught her, the sheer speed they’d been traveling at had blurred the surroundings enough to make her feel sick if she kept her eyes open. It wasn’t until Tylinmon had stopped, hovering before the entertwined angels, that she’d been able to open her eyes.

“I know what she wants us to do…” Hikari whispered, horrified. The solution was right before them. Deletion. It would free Tailmon from Parasimon’s grip, and solve their problems all at once. Sacrifice to defeat an evil. Angemon himself had done that once before, she knew, on that adventure she had never been on.

But… _Wizardmon._ Digimon who died in the real world…

If they did what Angewomon wanted…she would never see Tailmon again.

HolyAngemon understood. That was why he’d pounced the moment she’d started acting irrationally, at first doubling over and holding her head, and then having what could only be described as a fit in mid-air. Magenta claws dug into the green markings on her face, beneath the visor of her helmet. They didn’t draw blood but left behind irritated looking gouges, and if Hikari looked close enough she could side the tiny escaping data bits that indicated a digimon’s wounds. She howled at nothing. At everything. Fighting. But not them. Not even HolyAngemon at first. Parasimon wasn’t fighting them.

Angewomon was fighting. She’d chosen this moment to throw everything she had even if it would kill her. HolyAngemon recognized that. He’d made the decision himself once. He had her restrained. Helpless. But he didn’t have the strength remaining to do more than just _hold_ her.

There was only one left who could. Who would. And Hikari had her arms wrapped around his neck.

“ _I…”_

An attack that would destroy Parasimon, would easily take HolyAngemon with her. Especially in his current condition.

He knew that, but he held on anyway.

Tylinmon’s voice was soft, and his body rose and fell with each beat of his wings. But he seemed to have forgotted about them, staring intently at the knot of digimon before them. “ _I can’t do it.”_

He tossed his head and snarled, twin trails of light following the movement of his muzzle. Almost like the whiskers on a dragon.

 _“I **hate** her for what she did.” _The words were vehement, “ _I **envy** her for what she was. And I **despise** what that creature has forced her to become…but I **cannot** kill her.”_

_“Ican’t. I can’t. I can’t.”_

_“I can’t even do what’s **right.** Broken. Cursed. BlackKudamon couldn’t even end his **own** suffering, why should he be able to do it for one he hates?”_

Hikari could barely hear it, the whispering reminiscent of his earlier bouts of madness. He had seemed to be getting…better in the last couple days since she’d found him. It was disconcerting to hear him speaking like that again. The strangled laughter bubbled in his throat, causing his whole body to shake beneath her. Almost against her will—they were talking about _killing_ Tailmon AND Patamon. Her friend. Her partner. A part of her heart—she leaned forward, resting her head against his neck. Not in fear this time—clinging for her life as she had been—but with trust. His fur was warm and comforting, his mane a cloud beneath her head.

“You’ll do what you need to do…” She whispered softly, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I trust you.”

He stilled. Processing her words.

“Hurry!” HolyAngemon finally spoke. It was short and terse, but riddled with exhaustion as he tried to keep a grip on his captive. “She would not want to continue like this.”

Hikari pulled back, her gut twisting as she took in the scene. He had his arms looped through hers, pinning her to his chest, but that just made him an easy target. Parasimon’s struggling was intensifying, becoming mad thrashing. The shadow of her wings were gone, unsheathing those wicked magenta spider claws and lashing out in every direction she could without any target or conscious thought.

HolyAngemon had plenty of scores on his battered armor; the golden ribbon that normally twinned around him had been severed in multiple places, data bits bleeding from the edges. His wings were the most visibly damaged, feathers ripped and torn away, and the two were slowly losing altitude now that Parasimon’s own magic wasn’t helping keep them aloft. He was trembling. He wouldn’t be able to hold her much longer. By all rights he should have dedigivolved after taking two shots to the back, in the exact same spot.

With a shuddering breath, Tylinmon seemed to make a decision. A powerful beat of his wings had them shooting backwards and up. And then he just…stopped in midair. No wing beats. Nothing. Wings spread wide, waiting, thin white feathers seeming to glow in the growing sunlight.

Two answering lights sprang into existence. Pale gold. The Holy Ring on Parasimon’s ankle—where a patch of white stubbornly remained in the twisted expanse of black—and the small golden band on her hand, with a smaller, but silimarly stubborn white patch, both flared in response, dissolving into golden particles. They streamed toward Tylinmon, joining with the light amongst the feathers, dancing bits of gold among the white.

A shout from below. Hikari turned to look over her shoulder and down.

The golden barrier was dissolving. A light was shining among the Chosen. The orb in Gennai’s hands.

The digicore flared blindingly. Gennai released it almost instinctively before it shattered, the older man’s hands dropping as he took a reflexive step back in surprise. A cloud of azure particles swirled in the space it had been, before it streaked away from the knot of chosen huddled on the edge of the dissolving war-zone.

It raced toward them, swirling around Tylinmon and Hikari. The wind of its passing teased at her hair, before it streamed to join the other lights collecting amongst the feathers in Tylinmon’s wings. It was warm…comforting…familiar.

It was almost enough to ease her heart, make her forget it was about to destroy two of her best friends.

With a sudden, powerful downward pump of his wings, Tylinmon sent the entire mass of energy speeding downward, aimed directly at the steadily falling angels.

_“Wave of Reformation.”_

The words were quiet, but Hikari heard the sighed attack name, thrumming as it was with power.

Parasimon screamed.

x-x-x

Blinding. Burning. Everything was too bright. Too hot. It was tearing into her, unraveling her and shredding her to pieces. Parasimon clawed to keep her head above the water, but the wave pulled her under.

Tailmon just sighed, allowing the warmth to tease away the poisonous anger and hate she’d been clinging to for weeks. She felt weak. Exhausted. Filthy. Stretched thin. For the first time since meeting Parasimon, she allowed herself to rest, letting the warmth carry her away from everything.

x-x-x

The god’s power was gone. Tylinmon could feel himself slipping away as his hooves thudded to the broken ground. His desperate hold faded as he felt Hikari slip from his back, darkness rushing in to overwhelm the sun.

No, no. Those were data particles. Streams of black data. The Spires. The spires dissolving, streaming upwards toward a point in the sky, directly overhead. The door was closing, the worlds snapping apart, their contact point suddenly gone.

He slumped to the ground, left behind as she moved away from him. She was a fading spec in the darkness, running toward the small crumpled figures a short ways away.

Two black shapes stepped into his fading vision. Tall. Too tall to be one of the children. Only one stood out in the distance, a single red eye in the darkness. Narrowed and burning with hate. And then they vanished in a swirl of black, his vision swimming as the last of his strength left him, the world swirling and lurching as his perspective changed.

The children were shadows that began to crowd around Hikari. Disbelief. Amazement. Joy.

He could hear it all in their voices. They’d all read the situation correctly. They’d assumed he would have killed them. That he had no choice other than to kill them both.

He couldn’t. Even the Traitor deserved better than that.

Magenta tipped black paws flashed as he moved, not the white he’d been hoping to see. BlackKudamon sank into a limp coil around his holy cartridge, without even the energy to move. Some times he just wanted to give in. To just let go and not care any more. If he didn’t care, then what did it matter how _wrong_ this was? How empty and cold he felt, cut off from the warmth and comfort of his own light? Even during his imprisonment he’d clung to it jealously, never letting it go, even to the point where he’d been driven mad as Vamdemon attempted to rip it from him. Again and again and again.

And under the sunlight for the first time in forever, it had turned from him. Rejecting the monster he’d become in favor of the _Traitor._ And now the new light he’d found was leaving him again, throwing him away to rush to her true partner. That very same Traitor.

He’d had a _chance._ Angewomon had _wanted_ to die. He _could_ have killed her there, taken on the role of Hikari’s partner for good. He’d even entertained the idea when he’d first approached her.

He’d been too weak. Bouyed by both the Chosen of Light AND the power of a God, he could have taken his dreams into his own claws.

Instead, he’d given them back to one who had too many chances as it was. Who had _everything_ BlackKudamon had ever wanted.

Warm arms gathered him up. Words choked with tears.

_“Thank you.”_

And…in the end, he didn’t regret it.


	46. As the Dust Settles

Hikari sat silently by Takeru’s bedside. She could hear the news on in the next room, this was Yamato’s apartment, and his father was out. She could hear arguing.

“How could _anyone_ think it was a _water main_ rupture? The entire _courtyard_ and some of the road was a wreck!” Taichi.

“The damage to surrounding buildings was nearly non-existant.” Yamato’s voice drifted back, “And there weren’t any injuries or anything to justify reporting it as another bombing.”

Not that it stopped the internet from blowing up about it. The series of Hikarigaoka Bombings was a top search term on certain websites, and the occasional video was being uploaded of a strange heat shimmer over the Nerima district. Hikari could make out the black spires through the haze of midmorning. She could see the surge of black energy tearing into the sky…

But most people couldn’t see it, and it was obvious in the comments she was scrolling through on her phone. Those who could were ridiculed…what had Izzy been talking about? A perception filter?

“The apartment complex probably claimed it _was_ a water main.” A third voice. Jou. He’d immediately rushed over the moment his classes were done. It was thanks to Jou that they hadn’t had to call an ambulance (or Takeru’s father) in order to get Takeru back home. He’d gotten his brother to pick them up as soon as he’d heard about the incident. “After the last two bombings, the place has been struggling to attract tenants. A third and the company would be doomed. Bad publicity.”

“Man…people are stupid aren’t they?”

Their voices dropped in volume again, the murmur of the television accompanied by quieter conversation. Hikari sighed and placed her phone on the desk, nudging a set of textbooks to the side to give her more space. The room was messy—Yamato had barely done more that a quick sweep of any obvious trash before getting Takeru settled. The green jacket of Yamato’s highschool uniform was draped over the dark shape of the guitar case set against the wall—the apartment was small, but they couldn’t take him _home._ His mother would freak out. Jou had checked him over, and like Miyako had declared he couldn’t find any obvious wounds. Gennai claimed he just needed to sleep through the shock—Tylinmon’s shield had blocked the most destructive of the energies, but the force had still been there. HolyAngemon had taken the brunt of it.

Patamon was curled up at Takeru’s side. The digimon had woken up briefly when Yamato brought him some food. It hadn’t been anything _decent_ , Yamato and his father lived off take out and microwaved dinners half the time, but Patamon had roused himself enough to scarf down the bag of chips before falling back into his exhausted sleep.

Whatever Tylinmon had done, Patamon had come out of it relatively unscathed, if battered and exhausted.

Tailmon…

Tailmon was a missing weight in her arms. The moment she’d seen Tailmon’s crumpled body next to Patamon’s…

She couldn’t even remember the time between sliding off Tylinmon’s back and kneeling down next to the cat, gathering her to her chest and vowing to never let her go again.

But Tailmon…had been strange. Wrong. Hikari could still see the image, clear as a photograph. A patchwork of black marred white fur, spreading along her small body like giant bruises. She’d seen that before, in the Dark Ocean, after the BlackTailmon attack. It was the green markings that were unfamiliar. Signs of Parasimon’s possession. Poison green ribbons, staining the black and white fur as they wound their way up her small arms and shoulders. Tylinmon’s wave hadn’t gotten rid of it completely, and Hikari couldn’t delude herself into believing that the Parasimon nightmare was over.

It had been that niggling doubt that Gennai had appealed to. That reasoning that he had used to pry Tailmon from Hikari’s arms. He wanted to get Izzy to scan her, to figure out the extent of the damage. A Parasimon possessed its victims, yes, but he’d never heard of one _merging_ with its host to this extent, this quickly.

Her fingers curled around the tarnished gold charm she refused to put down, feeling it warm in response. A weight settled gingerly over her shoulder, the feather-light brush of BlackKudamon’s incorperal body tickled her neck for a moment, and then it solidified, his fur a very real warmth where there previously hadn’t been any.

“ _You worry still.”_

It wasn’t a question.

She nodded slowly, careful of his head nestled in the crook of her neck. A tired sigh, the tiny air discharge tickling her throat.

“ _Why not just go? I doubt the guardian would deny you.”_

Her fingers tightened on the Holy Cartridge, something that had gone beyond habit by this point. She still remembered Taichi carefully, gently, but firmly extracting Tailmon from her grip, in that blur before the group had split ways. Izzy and Gennai had taken Tailmon. Miyako walked Iori home—his mother hadn’t been pleased about him running out so early.

She’d agreed Tailmon needed to be checked. Needed the digital version of medical attention. But…

Had it needed to be so soon? She’d only just gotten her _back._

_“Hikari.”_

“I…” She shook her head, realizing she’d been staring at the black pane of the computer screen rising behind the pile of textbooks she’d shifted earlier. Yamato wouldn’t have a digital gate. There was no point without someone with a D-3 to open it. Her gaze drifted to Takeru again. BlackKudamon shifted, following her attention, his claws faint pinpricks through the fabric of her shirt. “Takeru still hasn’t woken up.”

“ _…He would not resent you for going to her.”_

No…no he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t wake up alone either. Patamon was right there, fitting snugly between Takeru’s limp arm and his side, like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

The legs of her chair scraped against the wood floor as she pushed it back, away from the bed-side, giving her enough room to stand up without bumping the bed. BlackKudamon’s weight faded as he retreated to his HolyCartridge, hidden in her fist. Three heads turned toward her the moment the door squeaked open.

She took a deep breath, and then looked her brother in the eye. “I’m going to Izzy’s.”

The corners of Taichi’s mouth twitched downward. She could almost see the objections forming beneath that mop of brown hair. What about Takeru? What if it was dangerous? Izzy said he’d email them as soon as they’d found out something. Just be patient. They all needed a break…

And then he sighed, his shoulders sagging. They both knew that none of those would work. “Okay. I’ll walk with you.”

x-x-x

Black, choking clouds seethed around her. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Parasimon’s laughter filled her head, echoing amongst the poisonous clouds. No. Not clouds, webs. Black webs shot through with green. They bound her trapped her. She couldn’t move—couldn’t do anything but _hate—_

_“What’s this? Oooh, a spider nestled in her heart, bound in chains, but still leaking poison.”_

The laughter shifted to screams. Tailmon curled tighter, the threads shifted with her, constricting around paws, neck and body. Burning heat tore through the web, a fire running along the strands to engulf it, and her together.

_“No, no, we can’t have that. Remove it, I cannot. But contain…yes, yes. That is within my power. Poor little kitten, now a broken body to reflect your broken spirit. Tailmon no longer, yet not quite a BlackTailmon. Not yet. Perhaps not ever, if the bonds wrought of hope and light yet hold.”_

Her burns screamed in agony, but the webs were gone, blowing away like ash. She could _almost_ see past the darkness.

“ _Ah, but how long can they hold, with the beast rattling at the door, I wonder? I wish you luck, kitten, for no rookie ever wins when a mega decides they want them for their own. Cherish the bonds you have and fortify your walls—the god no longer has power to share. Miracles only occur once.”_

She felt so _heavy._

_“Ah, ah, no more nightmares for you. Oblivion may be the last kindness I can grant you. Cherish it while you can.”_

Everything faded, and Tailmon knew nothing more.

x-x-x

Hours later, Tailmon finally stirred again. Her return to consciousness was a long time in coming, each inch closer to full awareness felt sluggish, as if she were wading through a thick mud of exhaustion, and not a little bit of fear. Fear that the haze of peace was nothing more than Parasimon’s next sick tactic to beat her down. That thought sent a jolt of fear through her—pain and abuse she could stand. She’d lived through Vamdemon. If Parasimon had realized, and lulled her to sleep with peaceful dreams and rest…

She might never have woken up again.

And then.

A sickly purple arrow, aimed at a battered HolyAngemon. A perverted mix of Heaven’s Charm, barreling toward Hikari. Webs.

_NO!_

She tore the peace to shreds, surfacing with a gasp and a shiver. Everything was dark. Her body was shaking. What was Parasimon doing now?

A strange hint of _disconnect_ hit her. _She_ was shivering. It was dark because _her_ eyes were closed. Parasimon…

…wasn’t anywhere to be found.

She was _alone_ in her head. Her body felt heavy. Was it even _hers?_ After what felt like an eternity stuffed into the background, only allowed to touch the outside world when her tormenter sought to drive the knife of despair deeper…

She focused on her paw, if she could…just get it to move. Consiously. Then maybe…maybe she could believe.

It twitched. She could feel something soft and malleable beneath her claws. Even that tiny motion hurt, magnifying the aches that seemed to penetrate her entire body. But she pushed through it. Aches meant she wasn’t fighting fit, which meant she wouldn’t be a danger to those she cared about if Parasimon came _back._

Claws clenched, the sharp points digging through the glove and pressing against her paw. It was pain, but it was hers. And real. She would hold onto it as long as she could.

Step one complete. Step two…well. She would think of that later. Moving was enough.

“Tailmon—”

The half-sob _forced_ her to struggle to sit up. Her paws shook as they attempted to hold the weight. She cracked her eyes open, the soft light of the room stinging, but she refused to close them again. Not with the blurry figure leaning before her, half rising from a chair that had been pulled to the bed-side.

Even after…everything…

“I—” Her voice cracked. Her eyes were stinging. Hikari was nearly indistinguishable from a blurred pink and brown blob beside her. It was all because of the light. It had to be. Her eyes were just watering. That was all.

“I—I’m sorry.”

Hikari’s embrace was painful, both as a result of her worn out body, and the guilt eating her up inside. But Tailmon refused to let herself flinch. Flinch and Hikari might take it the wrong way. She might leave. And Tailmon didn’t want—

“It’s okay.” Hikari’s voice was quiet. Not quivering. She was a strong girl, even after all that. “You came back. You came back, and that’s all that matters.”

While her voice was strong, her arms were trembling. Tailmon pulled herself closer, ignoring the protests of her battered body. She wasn’t surprised by the black that spread out along her arms. The blue staining her gloves. None of it mattered. None of it mattered while Hikari was a warm support at her back. None of it mattered with those arms around her, holding her close and protected, basking in the light of love and trust and relief.

Something warm and wet soaked into her fur. One drop. And then another. And another.

“Everything will be okay, won’t it Tailmon?”

Something dark and deep sent a chill through Tailmon’s soul, but it was a distant thought, easily pushed aside by relief. She’d been prepared to die, rather than harm her friends. She’d been given a second chance, and she wouldn’t waste it.

x-x-x

Gennai stepped out of the room, letting the dividing curtain of beads and grasses fall between him and the reunion of the Chosen of Light and her digimon. It wasn’t his business. Not the way Hikari’s arms shook as she drew the weak digimon into a half hug, nor the wet streaks silently matting the digimon’s bicolored fur. He’d stayed, just in case. Just in case Sepikmon had been wrong, and something else had been there.

“You can come out now.” He sighed into open space, unsurprised when what had first seemed to be a shadow in the corner of the thatched roof coalesced into a snake-like being, curled around a floating, tarnished bullet casing. BlackKudamon had refused to go in with Hikari, and the last Gennai had seen the digimon was outside of Sepikmon’s hut. “She is safe.”

For now.

 _“What of the spider?”_ Golden eyes glittered in the pointed face. Gennai shook his head and motioned the rookie to follow him away from the curtain of beads. Sepikmon _claimed_ he’d worked wards against sound into the multicolored designs, but the masked monkey also claimed to talk to ghosts. And not those of the Bakemon variety.

The hut was really just a square wooden building; crude movable walls of sticks plastered with odd papers determined the interior floor plan. Sepikmon claimed an open layout was more agreeable to the spirits, and that walls were only to be tolerated for guests or patients. An odd one, that, but he’d been making a name for himself since he’d appeared.

Appeared. Like Swanmon, Sepikmon was a digimon the world hadn’t seen in ages. The first of the odd armor-evolutions Gennai had met, shortly after Qinglongmon’s release. Had LordKnightmon’s plundering of the Sanctums begun that long ago?

The center of the hut was a large communal room, an open fire pit dancing merrily in a ring of stones, the smoke rising lazily through a vent in the ceiling. The master of the house meditated quietly before the fire. Upside down, hanging from the bare rafters by his tail. Gennai shook his head, bemused, and took a seat on one of the low cushions on the opposite side of the fire. A heavy iron pot simmered over the fire, a pleasant aroma wafting from the covered lid. Whether it was food, or some sort of strange medical concoction, Gennai had no idea.

“So, now you have seen.” The large colorful mask grinned down at him, the monkey releasing his grip and twisting in mid-air, landing lightly on the stone floor. The fire crackled between Gennai and the crouching digimon, throwing orange highlights against the smooth wooden mask, “Do you still not believe my words?”

“You said you could cure her.”

The mask tilted quizzically, “Have I not? With the spider contained, the kitten is herself once more. Asking more of me, where a god’s power failed? I would call that unreasonable, would you not?”

Gennai was silent. The monkey swayed, tail coiling as knuckles brushed against the stone floor, “Poison—poison I can cure. But this is no ordinary poison. The spirits whisper to me—she is changed. Those with the skill to look will see it. None dwell within that body who do not have a claim to it.”

“ _The spider does **not** belong!” _ The angry hissing sent a shiver down Gennai’s spine. He turned glancing toward the coiling mass of BlackKudamon. The digimon’s patterns burned a bloody red in dark stained fur, “ _When I—I—I could sense it. She **did** something. Something **wrong**. The Traitor doesn’t feel—”_

“Natural?” Sepikmon answered knowingly, reaching out to lift the heavy iron lid off the stew pot. The thick brown liquid burbled, large bubbles forming and bursting mere moments later, sending wafts of rich scents careening throughout the space, “You are quite right, what ails your friend is not so simple as that which afflicts you.” A wooden ladle appeared from behind the monkey’s back, dipping in and stirring the liquid, white-tipped tail flicking in time with each circular motion, “And something far beyond _my_ humble abilities to clense. I strengthened the seal on the evil one’s consciousness, and granted the kitten some measure of peace. What happens next is up to her.”

“ _I won’t accept that.”_ The parting words were harsh, and they rang even in the open space as magenta claws snapped at the air. _“I **won’t.** ”_

And then…he was gone.

“Such a strange, strange one, that one.” Sepikmon hummed to himself, lifting the ladel up to sniff it, “The future is just as cloudy around him, but his misfortune is his own, unlike our dear little kitty. What is his story?”

What indeed… Gennai turned, noticing the beads swaying near the back of the hut.

“One of desperation and redemption, is my guess.” Gennai responded, shaking his head, “He was the one to craft those bonds you mentioned. I assume he feels responsible.”

A story of contridictions, given the patchwork of a history he’d heard from Hikari after Vamdemon’s castle. So much hate…

He’d assumed the digimon’s act of mercy had been under the influence of Qinglongmon’s digicore. If it still bothered him now…

Perhaps there was hope for redemption. Perhaps Hikari was right in taking him in.

“Hmm.” Sepikmon fished a bowl out from nowhere and plopped the thick substance into it, holding it out over the iron pot toward Gennai.

The mask grinned at him from across the flames, “Lunch?”

x-x-x


	47. Illuminating the Shadows

Everything felt… _strange._ Eerily silent. Even locked in a cell, Storabimon had grown used to muffled distant noises of the keep, or the rattle of chains and the scrape of claws against stone as he shifted or paced. Now…the cold metal still bit into his wrists. He could feel the chains swaying with each step, but there was no _sound._

There was nothing to this world of darkness. Nothing but each step, one after another, and the smooth non-metalic feel of bone in his claws, leading the way deeper into the darkness.

Duskmon hadn’t spoken a word since he’d done…whatever it was he’d done, cutting them off from the rest of the world. He wasn’t even sure if they _could_ talk here—wherever here _was—_ there weren’t any other sounds.

And worst of all, no light. No light and thus no contrast to give him even the _slightest_ grip on the void surrounding him.

 _“Sorry.”_ It seemed almost sheepish. “ _I need_ something _to work with.”_

Storabimon dismissed the apology as unnessesary, turning his head as a flicker of color painted itself into the darkness. It had been fading in and out as they walked, but seeing Shadow’s blurred image falling into step beside him comforted him a little. It kept him from imagining a darkening of the space to his left, the eerie red glow of Duskmon’s many eyes. Watching him.

He couldn’t help the shiver than ran down his spine, or the tightening his grip on the bone gauntlet that unerringly led him forward. He _did_ trust Duskmon. No, more truthfully, he trusted _Kouichi._ But that didn’t mean it was easy to ignore the unease at having _both_ their nightmares resurrected, even if the corrupted Warrior was acting civil. For the moment.

A…he could only describe it of a lightening of the space around him, was the first thing to change since they’d started walking. Shadow’s faint image sharpened, as if a filter lifted just the slightest bit.

And then…the sound returned.

Claws nicked stone, the scrape screeching in his ears after what felt like and eternity of nothing. He winced involuntarily as the rattle of metal on metal joined in, a precursor to the booming word.

**“Stop.”**

Storabimon’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t get a chance to process it. Duskmon twisted his gauntlet sharply, breaking free of Storabimon’s claws and leaving him anchorless save for the floor beneath him. Without that guiding support Storabimon misstepped, his careful awareness of balance thrown off by the shock. Desperate claws lashed out, raking across a stone wall where Duskmon had been. Storabimon quickly orientated himself, spinning to put his back against the wall, something solid he could feel, even if he couldn’t see.

Was this it? Had Duskmon finally had enough?

And it _had_ to be Duskmon, because the next words were something out of a nightmare.

“What are you to me?”

But…they were different. These were cold, dispassionate, with only the barest hint of frustration, not the confused fury Kouji remembered, as Kouichi’s memories began to seep through Cherubimon’s carefully constructed illusion.

_He doesn’t remember._

To have it confirmed like that chilled Storabimon to the bone. He’d suspected, when Duskmon had asked if Storabimon had trusted him. That knowledge was in part _why_ he was so nervous. He trusted his brother.

But…with Duskmon…there was always a chance his brother wasn’t _there._

The Warrior of Darkness didn’t make a sound, Storabimon didn’t receive any warning before the teeth of Duskmon’s gauntlet dug into the thick fur around his neck, forcefully pulling him away from the anchor he’d found. He didn’t _quite_ lift him off the ground, but that moment when Storabimon’s feet left the stone a memory assaulted him, the muted and dreary landscape of the Dark Continent painting itself onto the black canvas surrounding him. Exhausted, Wolfmon’s evolution fading away, staring down into the red eyes beyond Duskmon’s helmet. He’d lost, held off the ground by the grip on his shirt, waiting. Waiting as the feeling of familiarity slowly drove Duskmon _mad._

“ _Answer me!”_

He hadn’t known the answer then. He’d been just as confused, unaware of the human boy beneath Duskmon’s bone armor. It hadn’t been until the fight within Sefirotmon that he’d gotten his first glimpse.

It had been Kouji’s human self that had first awakened Kouichi’s memories—would that work again?

“I’m…” He tried to relax, aiming to release his hold on his digimon form. Kouichi had barely met Storabimon briefly through the bars. He’d _know_ Kouji.

 _“ **Don’t!** ”_Shadow’s shout echoed in Storabimon’s mind, and he felt the other latch tighter on the data Storabimon was trying to release, “ _We are sturdier like this. As a human we’d be_ useless.”

And Storabimon hated being useless. Especially since they were still in enemy territory. _…Fine._

“I’m…the Warrior of Light.” He finished after a moment, deciding to frame it in a way Duskmon would understand. Duskmon on a whole was very…calm…even in the midst of battle. It had only been when that calm splintered that the true nightmare would begin. Even now, while Duskmon was being abrupt, he only sounded mildly interested.

“I see.” Duskmon’s grip slackened, and Storabimon could feel him shift—turning away perhaps? Not that turning away would put him out of sight. Not for Duskmon. “Are we enemies?”

The cool question, delivered without malice, nearly felt like a punch to the gut. Storabimon let out a hissing breath. “ _No!”_

“Oh?”

“We aren’t enemies.” Storabimon repeated. Never enemies. Never again. Even if it _was_ Duskmon.

“Then what are we?” Storabimon imagined he could see Duskmon’s many eyes, all focusing on him. Waiting. Waiting for an answer. He clenched his jaw.

 _“…remember. Deep down, it is_ still _Nii-san.”_

_…I know._

“Brothers.” After a moment, Storabimon added, “Partners.”

“…I see…”

It wasn’t the best answer. Or even the one he was looking for.

But, as Duskmon’s bone gauntlet slipped into his hand again, it felt like it might just be enough.

x-x-x

Duskmon drifted through the dark hallways, watching dispassionately at the shades of digimon running to and fro among the chaos of shaking earth and shuddering walls. None of it mattered here, in this corridor of shadow. Some sort of plant-type digimon ran directly at his…companion, but Duskmon easily steered the rookie out of the digimon’s frenzied path. Storabimon responded readily, showing an intriguing degree of trust despite his overall unease. Interesting.

Although that unease seemed to be compounded whenever Duskmon pulled them deeper into the Ghost Move, and lessened when he loosened his grip on the technique. Impressive for one without the ability to see.

Normally the technique merely allowed him to step from one shadow to another. Here, this world was composed _entirely_ of shadows, lending another meaning to the technique. He felt as if he could hold the phase shift forever if he wished.

“What are we looking for?”

The darkness carried the words to his ears alone. Duskmon surveyed the chaotic hallway, and then pulled the smaller digimon to a much emptier side-room. He loosened his grip on the phase-warp, drawing them out of the depths he’d been utilizing to facilitate their safe passage. It was…difficult to communicate when that deep. Duskmon kept his shoulder eyes watching the door. His adjusted phase-shift would continue to keep them out of sight, but for sound they needed to be closer to the physical world.

 _What_ am _I looking for…?_ Duskmon wondered silently as he worked, tugging and weaving the threads of shadows surrounding them. It was something. Something important. He’d found one of those things already, in Storabimon— _warrioroflightpartnerbrother—_ but there was something else nagging at him.

A cheerful smile. Friend.

Dancing flames casting warmth and light in the darkness, casting reflections in the black water.

“Fire…” Duskmon murmured, his shoulder eye shifting to regard the sudden movement of his companion. Claws tightened on his gauntlet, he could feel the teeth pressing into the other digimon’s palm. Did it mean something to Storabimon?

“You did say he was sneaking in during the battle…”

 _Battle._ Yes, that would explain the chaos surrounding them. The shuddering would be impacts, and those blazing energies he could sense at the edge of his perception must be the combatants. He’d been unconsciously skirting them, as well as the oddly muddled nexus at the center at the tower.

Storabimon was still speaking, his voice pitched lower as if talking to someone else. Someone that wasn’t Duskmon.

“…only we had our digivice…track him…think he can?”

His… _companion_ was strange. Those strange sightless eyes always stared straight ahead, through the wall, through him, a murky black that even Duskmon knew they shouldn’t be. And then there were the times when Duskmon would see him turn from the corner of his shoulder vision, those sightless eyes tracking something that wasn’t there.

Frustration coiled in the depths of Duskmon’s calm center, testing the tranquil apathy at his core. _Why_ were his memories so scattered? Every now and then he’d feel…something. A shard or web slipping through his fingers.

…fingers? Duskmon looked down at his gauntlets. He didn’t have hands.

“…worth asking…Duskmon!”

He shifted his main vision away from the grinning bone face of the dragon skull, and to the digimon that was now looking vaguely in his general direction. He waited, expectantly.

“Do you know what a D-Scanner is?”

The word struck a chord within him, but all that came to mind was an oddly shaped box, black on grey.

“…it is familiar.”

Not that he knew _what_ it was.

“Okay. Good.” That seemed to encourage the other digimon, “Focus on that—this would be much easier if I had _mine—_ Hold out your hand and…well…reach for it. Focus and reach. You know how to Slide Evolve—reach for the code and it’ll be there, a solid spot amongst the bits.”

The splinter slipped away as Duskmon did as instructed, calling on the code that was Velgamon, Lord Cherubimon’s gift—

_Lord…_

Velgamon wasn’t there. Something else was. Something pure and dark and tranquil. Not the madness enraged avian, but a coiled predetor, patiently waiting to spring…

Something made him hesitate to touch that stalking presence. It wasn’t his to sully. Not like this.

A weight settled in his hand. His _hand._ All eyes snapped to the little machine—machine, not a box—sitting innocently in a bone gloved hand. Something had shifted, the grinning skulls widening to admit ten fingers and a palm, protected by the same black bone armor.

The little machine was just as he’d imagined it, somewhat oblong, fitting neatly in the cradle of palm and fingers he hadn’t had just moments before. The symbol for darkness stood out against a sea of static, flickering between purple and red.

“Think of what you are searching for…” Duskmon had been completely ignoring Storabimon, but that didn’t seem to matter. “Think Fire…and Takuya.”

That name sparked more flashes. Dragon, doing a twirl on a wooden deck. A grinning human, scruffy brown hair. A nearly identical digimon with green eyes, cream markings standing against a brown face.

 _Human. **Human.** _ There was something there…

He lost it as the machine beeped, drawing his attention. A green orb shimmered into being above his palm, a blinking light pulsing in a centain direction. Duskmon followed it with two of his eyes, the others still transfixed by the sight.

He didn’t need Storabimon to tell him what to do from there.

His new hand—he had _hands—_ curled around Storabimon’s gloved one and he tugged the much smaller digimon along without another word.

x-x-x

Flamemon stumbled through the quivering hallway—the explosions were distant now, but every now and then another explosion would go off, shaking the entire fortress with the resulting vibrations. He couldn’t hear the guards anymore. Could he stop?

 _Should_ he stop? His mind was a cloudy mess, brains rattled from that blow to the head, he wasn’t quite sure. He was looking for something.

Flamemon slowed.

He looked around, slowly, looking for the source of the sound. Nothing. Just yet another series of quiet hallways, lit by eerie green flames.

 _Beep_.

Familiarity filtered through the haze. He knew that sound. It belonged…to something. Something that belonged to him.

His _D-Scanner?_

He reached for that thought, the data gathering in his outstretched palm. The beeping intensified as a second set joined in.

_Second?_

It hit him like a flash, and Flamemon immediately scrambled for the almost unnoticeable lump in his pocket. How could he have _forgotten?_ The blue and black D-Scanner echoed the sounds of his red one, a green orb erupting above them both. They pointed in the same direction. Flamemon followed the indicating point with his eyes, down a branching hallway into the interior of the fortress. He’d mostly stuck to the outside corridors since that was where the stairs were.

 _Kouichi was headed to the dungeons_ , Flamemon remembered now, forcing the thoughts through his pounding head. The incessant beeping was only making it worse, so he muted it. _But the digivices are pointing inward…_

What did they want to lead him toward?

Shrugging, Flamemon turned down the larger hallway. Following the digivices had never steered him wrong before.

x-x-x

Duskmon held Storabimon firmly, not saying a word when he stopped the other digimon mid-step. Luckily, he didn’t ask any questions. That was one thing he found himself liking about his companion. He wasn’t much for idle chatter, even once proven that Duskmon could hear him despite the darkness.

Keeping an eye on the empty corridor with his peripheral vision, Duskmon studied the green sphere hovering above the curious machine Storabimon had called a D-Scanner. The blinking dot he’d been following was now directly in the center, pulsing slowly.

After a few moments of unmoving silence, Storabimon finally spoke.

“What is it?”

Duskmon’s right shoulder-eye swivled, lingering on his companion.

“Nothing.” Duskmon said simply, studying the small map, thinking of Fire and willing it to point the way. The blinking light shuddered, the rhythm thrown off for a second or two before it settled into its slow, deliberate pattern again. “There is…nothing.”

“Hmm…” Storabimon pulled his glove free from Duskmon’s, his long claw tapping against the dragon’s skull, “Could you drop the cloaking thing? Completely?”

Duskmon obligingly released the phase shift he’d been holding, the two of them materializing in the center of a green torch-lit corridor, somewhere near the center of the structure. Storabimon nodded his thanks, a tension leaving his shoulders as he glanced around.

And then turned those sightless eyes upward, toward the ceiling.

“There’s something up there.”

“…Indeed.” Without sight, his energy perception must be sharp. Duskmon could feel the nexus of energy above them as an odd twisting in the native darkness of this world. He’d prefer to avoid it if possible. His Ghost Move wouldn’t be able to hide them for long in such an unstable area.

“You know exactly what that is. I can feel it too. It’s _right there._ ” Storabimon tilted his head strangly, as if listening. Then he nodded sharply. “Either _he_ has it, or it is a trap. Trust Takuya to be idiot enough to stumble right into the middle of things.” Duskmon had the oddest impression that _he_ wasn’t the one being spoken to. Not until the digimon pointedly turned to him, “We need to get up there. Is there a staircase nearby?”

Duskmon didn’t respond, drawing all but a cusory amount of his attention onto the other digimon. He didn’t _like_ not knowing. The other digimon had seemed truthful, but there was _something else_ there. Something Storabimon wasn’t willing to explain.

He let the strange machine drop, and tightened his grip on the other digimon.It dissolved, and the particles just seemed to _fit_ into his tattered soul.

_Tattered?_

He ignored the uneasy, “ _Duskmon…?”_ from his companion, reaching into the darkness and pulling them deeper into the shade, out of sync with the world around them. Storabimon had gone stiff as a statue, the easy awareness he’d shown vanishing once Duskmon fully held the Ghost Move once more.

“You are not telling me everything.”

He did not let the digimon answer. He’d had his chance. He would find the answer _himself._

Duskmon reached out for the only other light he could sense, flickering weakly amidst the cloud of shadow.

_Memory Disturbance._

The world tilted, Duskmon braced himself for the wave. It hit, Duskmon caught it, sifting through the streams until he found something, _anything—_

_“You know that isn’t my name right now.”_

_\--_

_He crashed back to his knees, sucking in air greedily. His jaw throbbed. He was going to have a bruise. He just hoped it wasn’t broken._

_“Such an ironic position, isn’t it? The Warrior of Light, ever shrouded in darkness.”_

_\--_

_“What do I want…?” The digimon repeated the question, considering. “You have seen it, haven’t you? The End.”_

_…The Digital World, reduced to two moons floating around an empty space where a planet had once been._

\--

_“…niisan?” The word was whispered, carried on a stifled breath. Hope was a fragile thing. He’d all but given up on being rescued. He’d focused on keeping himself together. After that he would worry about getting out._

_And…silence. His heart began to sink. Of course. Just wishful thinking._

_“Kouji…?”_

\--

—and something caught him, dragging Duskmon away from the answers he _knew_ was right there. Hands on his arms, pulling him back, away from the memories. Something on the other side of the cell. _Who_ had Storabimon been waiting for?

 _Two sets of hands._ On both arms. One set was easily recognizable as the clawed Storabimon—and hadn’t _he_ been holding onto him?—the other…was much softer and paler.

“Please don’t do that again.” The voice sounded like Storabimon, yet not. “It was bad enough going through that the _first_ time.”

Duskmon snarled, tearing free of the grips and spinning, blood red metal sliding free from his right gauntlet. They were keeping him from his answers—they—

There were _two_ of them.

He knew Storabimon, even if he seemed somewhat translucent. But the other, while undeniably solid seemed…oddly blurred. As if a second image overlay the first.

Dark hair, blue clothes, pale skin—

_I know him._

_\--and_ then something snapped into place. Duskmon’s knees hit shadowed stone with a clang, gauntlet cradling his head. It throbbed, but he knew if he could just push past it. An elusive wind tugged at mental fingers—almost—

“ _Nii-san!”_ And those hands—human hands—grabbed his shoulder. Peripheral eyes that had been shut with pain sprang open, trying to focus on the indistinct outline leaning over him. He was swamped with the extra sensory input, mixing together with his already forming headache, as well as the strain of the phase shift he was still holding.

“I’m…okay, Kouji.”

The voice that came from his throat didn’t sound like _his_ , but the way his brother tensed, and then suddenly the concerned hold suddenly morphed into a crushing grip; despite Duskmon being twice his size and far stronger…he could accept it. Somehow.

“You remember?” His brother sounded far calmer than his desperate action indicated, but he could hear the smallest hitch in Kouji’s voice. Could feel the tiny tremor in his arms that was one of the few indications Kouji ever gave that he was three steps from needing to lock himself away to compose himself.

“…yes.” He still felt detatched from everything. Duskmon’s cold apathy held a loose grip on his soul, but… “It was…just the shock. That’s all.”

One by one, Kouichi shut Duskmon’s peripheral eyes, taking in a few steadying breaths to orientate himself without the stress of the sensory overload. Duskmon may be used to the expanded vision, may be used to letting the eyes wander and monitor the surroundings while he focused on one thing…but Kouichi wasn’t quite willing to step that close again. Not yet.

He felt Kouji shift, releasing his hold and moving away, putting proper distance between them once again. Kouichi almost mourned the loss of contact, leaving him alone in the darkness again. Isolated.

“Nii-san… _why?_ I admit it worked, but why would you even _risk_ it?”

“I was _aiming_ for Lowemon.” Kouichi shoke his head slowly, and then regretted it as the headache returned full force. He winced, and sighed. It was more effort than he’d expected to keep all those eyes closed. “This world seems to delight in finding ways to kick me in the teeth.”

And why should he have expected it? Digivolving normally had still left him as Shyamon, even if Sphinxmon’s data was wrecking holy hell on his digital code. If nothing else, the introduction of the ancient digimon’s data should have _strengthened_ Lowemon’s position. Duskmon had been the product of Cherubimon’s twisted magic, not a natural successor to AncientSphinxmon’s spirit…

And then…suddenly arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back into a _hug._ Kouji was _willingly_ hugging him. It was almost comical. Duskmon was _twice_ Kouji’s size, and only the fact that he was on his knees and the other standing even made it _possible._

He must have involuntarily stiffened in surprise, because the grip tightened reflexively, he could almost see Kouji resisting the urge to pull away out of embarrassment.

“I…promised myself. Once I got out I would give you a hug. A real one.”

The words were forced, almost grudging. Evey last shred of Kouji’s pride would be screaming at him right now. But he held on.

So Kouichi…just let himself…stop for a while. Stop thinking. Stop worrying about Duskmon. Or Takuya. Or Ryuudamon. Stop wondering _how_ Kouji and Storabimon could be in the same place. Stop dwelling on how often he’d _failed…_

_It’s my fault we’re in this mess in the first place…_

“I’m…sorry I took so long.”

_“I missed you Nii-san…”_

A second voice echoed Kouji’s, and for a moment Kouichi thought he could feel the weight of a second pair of arms against Duskmon’s armor.  


x-x-x

Flamemon…didn’t quite know what he was looking at.

The digivice had led him through the rookie-sized side passages, to the mega-sized main halls of the keep. And finally to this room. Getting inside had been tough. The main doors had obviously been built for digimon of much larger size and strength than little ol’ Flamemon, but in a place that was built to accommodate digimon of all sizes, and where those of smaller stature seemed to be used mainly as servents or errand runners who had to get _everywhere…_ Well, there was always a way in.

The hall was huge—then again, it matched the size of _all_ the doors in this section of the keep—and brightly lit not by the green-wall mounted torches used in the rest of the keep, but by large white crystals that had been placed along the length of the room. The result was something closer to natural light, which was _very_ startling after seeing everything with a green overtone. The softly glowing crystals revealed an…well, it _looked_ like an art gallery. Tapestries hung between the crystal columns. Some were merely abstract patterns of color. Some were obviously depicting specific scenes, even if they were lost on him. One in the corner almost looked like the gold dragon he’d seen fighting LordKnightmon earlier—he would _not_ forget those weird wing blades after they’d nearly taken the head off of one of the guards when the battle had punched through a _wall—_ but other than that…

The wall decorations weren’t even the main exhibit, either. A _huge_ ring of stone sculptures dominated the room, each at _least_ as tall as LordKnightmon. Flamemon wasn’t even sure what they were of, everything looked so distorted when he was craning his neck. Various digimon maybe? The tip of his hair stood about halfway up the _base_ of the nearest one. He couldn’t even see the thing’s _feet._

There was a patch of discolored stone in the dead center of the ring, black against the otherwise light grey stonework. Here Flamemon now stood, scratching his head in confusion. At this distance he could see the overall shape of the statues—and most looked oddly distorted—but the details were lost. His D-Scanner had gone dark after entering the room, so obviously this was what he had needed to find.

But…what is it? And why would his D-Scanner be picking it up? This world didn’t _have_ spirits, so it couldn’t be that. Unless Kouichi was hiding somewhere in here. Which he doubted considering that was the first thing he’d thought of and calling his name hadn’t gotten any replies. He hadn’t even responded through the digivice, although it had blinked with the symbol a few times, which was just _bizarre._ Only static.

 _You gave Daisuke the digivice._ The thought nudged him, _to track down the Crest._

Not that Daisuke had ever explained whata crest was other than it was used by the Chosen for digivolution. So like the spirits. Sorta. And the D-Scanner would pick it up. Like the spirits. Sorta.

_Could there be one here?_

He had _no_ idea what to look for. Sometimes Takuya really wished Flamemon had asked more about what was going on with the so called essences and crests. But given Kouji’s initial attitude, and what he remembered happening before the other Warrior was kidnapped…he could understand the reluctance.

“I just need a better view.” He grumbled, eyeing the statue directly across from him. It seemed vaguely familiar. More so than the rest of them, so he’d focused his study on it. Something about it gave him a weird feeling, as if there was an itch he couldn’t _quite_ reach. There was no way he’d be able to climb the damn thing, it was too big and he’d be too close—

 _Climb?_ The thought was almost amused. Had he hit his head even harder than he’d thought? The ache had faded. Mostly. _Why climb when you can fly?_

That stopped him cold. He _could_ fly, couldn’t he? Hiryumon hovered just out of reach, waiting for him to call.

And in the end, what was the harm in spending some more time poking around the place? The digivice had brought him _here._ There was something important here. And if finding it could possibly help the chosen and throw a kink in LordKnightmon’s plan?

The digicode cut off the perplexing art exhibit, fire and scales settling over Takuya’s inner-self like a snug coat. Perviously unused muscles cramped, and he instinctively stretched the newly formed wings, disrupting the data cacoon and sending the particles careening away into nothingness.

The sense of odd-ness—going from human-type to beast-type—was only a fleeting one, and Hiryumon barely even noticed it. The little dragon peered around, orienting himself—he was a _little_ smaller than Flamemon, but not by much—and zeroing in on the statue he’d chosen.

 _That one._ Muscles coiled, instinct calculating exactly how much force he’d need to go airborne without the aid of any wind, and then he sprang. Strong downward sweeps of flame propelled him into the open space above. A slight adjustment and he was shooting forward, across the radius of the circle, and toward his chosen target.

The itch became more noticable. Nagging at him, like his brother Shinya, tugging at his hand, screaming at him to _PAY ATTENTION. PAY ATTENTION—_

Glowing red. He screeched to a standstill, mid-air, only Hiryumon’s innate flight ability keeping him in a stable hover. He was close enough now that he could make out more than a huge hulking chunk of rock. The carving was rough, but statue wasn’t _deformed_. It just was’t humanoid _,_ like he’d assumed _._ Some sort of dragon. Stone carved wings tucked close to its side. Closer. A horned mask, head laying on a curled forleg, something round and red and glowing between two oversized paws.

Something clicked. The sound echoing through the room. From the front. _The door_.

Hiryumon tucked in his wings and dove, crossing the last little bit of distance between him and the statue. He shot behind the dragon’s bent forleg just as the door swung open, willing the flames of his wings to dim even as an armored boot clicked against the stone. And then again and again. He huddled in the space between the orb and the statue’s head, that nagging itch erupting into a near electric charge that raced along his scales, urging him to action. To motion. Everything _except_ for being small and quiet and _hidden._ Hiryumon locked his wings to his side and squeezed tighter against the cold stone, further from the oddly glowing orb. It flared as his twitching tail brushed against it briefly, glowing brighter than before. Was _it_ the source?

The footsteps continued, followed by a strange continuous grinding noise. Hiryumon forced his attention away from the artifact beside him and to the approaching intruder. Did he dare to peek over the carved forarm?

“Welcome to the Hall of History, I do so hope you will be _quite_ comfortable here since you share Anubimon’s passion for it.” The echoing voice was straight out of frantic memories. He and the others barely had time to celebrate defeating Cherubimon before the nightmare continued, searching frantically for ways to be stronger and faster in order to take down foes even Aldemon hadn’t been able to touch. “I find it quite elegent. Pity Anubimon doesn’t use it for a throne room. Perhaps I shall relocate some of the more beautiful tapestries once I come into my lordship.”

Something heavy thudded to stone, sending tremors racing even through the sculpture beneath him. He had to look. If that was LordKnightmon…

…then what had become of the dragon he had been fighting?

And…who was he talking to?

Energy thrumming through his veins, Hiryumon forced himself to move _slowly._ Slowly and carefully as he inched his much smaller body up the dragon’s forarm, peering around the tip of the dragon’s horned snout.

“…you still do not understand…” The deep voice was weak, but the echoing thrum of it easily carried across the empty space to Hiryumon’s tense ears. Limp golden coils lay discarded upon the dark circle of stone in the center of the ring, once impressive wing-blades chipped and dull. The pink-armored crusader didn’t look much better. For all his self-assured speech his armor was tarnished and dented, even some of his golden shoulder ribbons had snapped clean off. “If all you offer is power, _no one_ will see _you_ as their lord.”

The knight didn’t move for a moment. Instead he knelt at the dragon’s side, bowing his head. Silent. Hiryumon had the craziest idea that LordKnightmon—the utterly arrogant and pompous LordKnightmon—was paying his _respects_ to his fallen foe.

And then a gauntlet’d hand shot forward, faster than he could see, piercing the dragon’s armored chest in a torrent of data particals. The dragon’s roar of pain covered up Takuya’s horrified shout.

When the room cleared, there was nothing but a fleeting cloud of sparkling code dancing around the still kneeling LordKnightmon, a glowing golden orb clenched in his fist. He slowly placed it on the center of the black stone, and then rose, turning his back to the flickering golden orb.

The stone trembled, and then _surged_ upward, enveloping the golden orb in a torrent of suddenly liquefied black marble. It shifted before Hiryumon’s eyes, twisting and writhing, juggling the flaring orb amongst the waves as it worked to solidify into its final shape.

A coiled dragon of black stone, etched in perfect detail where the surrounding grey stones were rough approximations. The golden orb sitting innocently between crossed wingblades.

“I. WILL. Be. Their Lord.” LordKnightmon hissed, “Even if I have to _burn_ the world first.”

He then turned, and Hiryumon ducked behind the stone limb once again.

“Now. _One More.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally caught up with this fic :) It should be released simultaneously with its FF.net counterpart now.
> 
> Also edited and fixed the weird formatting issue I had. Need to remember to do that for future chapters.


	48. The Dragon's Fall

“So…there really are _two_ of you, aren’t there?”

…and how would Kouichi know to ask that? Shadow shifted uncomfortably in the back of Storabimon’s mind, giving him the impression of a confused shrug. Duskmon’s cold, smooth armor shifted, and Storabimon carefully drew back. A step, two. Very carefully since he couldn’t even find the wall he’d used earlier as a guide. Giving his brother some space. Those were the first words Duskmon had spoken in some time.

“…yes.” It…wasn’t something Storabimon much wanted to talk about. “We…came to an agreement after we ended up here.”

 _“I **told** you our situation isn’t normal.” _ Shadow offered hesitantly, cautiously. It was a sore subject for them both. _“Even with Duskmon, Nii-san wouldn’t understand.”_

 _That_ was new. Previously Shadow had used Kouichi’s situation as an example of what theirs _should_ have been. Kouichi had seemed far more adaptable to the changes digivolving created, both mentally and physically. Except…

 _“Exactly.”_ The other agreed, picking up the trail end of the thought, poking and prodding it. Following it with an ease that would have once deeply unnerved Kouji. Now, it seemed natural. _“I think Duskmon has too much baggage. He’s rejecting it. Just the way you rejected me.”_

And…that thought terrified him. If rejecting his digimon-self had created Shadow…

 _“The spirits weren’t intended to_ be _like we were. They are static, where Anyamon and I were meant to be malleable. It won’t come to that.”_ Shadow reminded him, _“What I’m worried about is why **Duskmon.** ”_

A question that neither of them could answer satisfactorily.

“You know, Duskmon was wondering who you were talking to.” The soft musing broke Storabimon’s almost tunneled focus on his interior discussion. His face grew hot, embarrassed. He wasn’t used to having someone _else_ there anymore. He’d grown used to just Shadow and his empty cell. His visitors had always been unwelcome ones. “You’ve developed a tendency to mutter. It’s part of why he…” Kouichi trailed off. Silent. And then he took a deep, shaking breath. “I’m…sorry, Kouji. I think…the Memory Resonance…It was _wrong._ ”

 _…right._ Duskmon didn’t need to _see_ Shadow in order to know he was there, not after that. The rush of memories _had_ been exhausting and mentally painful. It felt…just like it had years ago. Like a flood had come barreling in and knocked everything around inside his skull, and he still needed to clean it up and reorganize it all again.

 _“Working on it.”_ Shadow added smugly, which would explain why he wasn’t having weird flashbacks as his mind unconsciously tried to fit the pieces back together. He hadn’t even had to deal with Duskmon’s spillover this time.

Occasionally there were bonuses to having a voice in one’s head.

“ _Oh be quiet.”_

It was _very_ difficult not to smile. But Shadow would know that he wanted to, which was enough to cause him to grumble and skulk further into the background.

“It’s…okay. We’re handling the side-effects.” Storabimon forced himself to shrug; it was tiring, keeping a grip both inside, and outside his head. “And it brought you back. How did you find me? This place…”

“I had…help. Ken and a native digimon, Ryuudamon, helped me deal with…well…everything.”

He trailed off, but Storabimon just nodded. He could complete the sentence easily enough. The _wrongness_ still nipped at the edges of his perception, even as he’d mostly grown numb to the world’s aura thanks to his time spent submerged in it. It would be countless times worse for Kouichi.

There was something wrong with this darkness. Storabimon could only thank the fact that Kouichi hadn’t tried KaiserLowemon. Velgamon might have brought the dungeon down on them both. Duskmon was at least _sane._ To an extent.

“What about Flamemon?” If Ken had made it out, the others must have as well. But…the only news he’d heard about Flamemon had been Duskmon’s search and Parasimon’s gloating. Flamemon had been badly injured after the battle with Arachnemon, and he hadn’t had it easy against Parasimon either; he had no business going on a rescue mission.

“I…don’t know, exactly. He’s here, and he has your D-Scanner. He snuck in during the commotion.”

…his D-Scanner _was_ here. _Damn it._ They hadn’t been hallucinating.

“Please tell me Gennai removed the Essence from it?” Storabimon didn’t even care that the question sounded desperate. The dread building within him overpowered any amount of injury his pride suffered. He’d gone through _too damned much_ to let that stupid chunk of data fall into LordKnightmon’s hands _now._

Kouichi’s silence was answer enough.

And given _where_ they’d sensed it…and where Kouichi’s D-Scanner had led them…

_Right. In. The Damned. Middle._

“We’ll need to finish this later.” LordKnightmon would figure out sooner or later he didn’t have the spirits of light in his custody anymore, and he’d start turning the place upside down looking for them. “Can you do the thing Duskmon did? The thing that got me out of the cell?”

Uncomfortable shifting, the scrape of metal against stone. He didn’t _think_ Kouichi had de-digivolved. His voice was still off. It was similar enough to how Kouichi had sounded when he’d _first_ found him in the cell—human rookie? It hadn’t been Anyamon or Kouichi’s own voice—so it was possible, but…

While there was something…different—it wasn’t as cold—it still reminded him of glowing red eyes and nightmares.

“Maybe? I’ve gotten used to holding the shift while we talked. It’s a little different moving through solids though.”

Shift? That must be the weird…thing that cut off _everything_ else. He didn’t like it.

“We need to go straight up.”

“…the nexus?” There was unease in his brother’s voice, “I don’t—Duskmon wanted to avoid it. The darkness is muddy and the shift would be unstable—”

“It’s muddy because that’s where Takuya _is._ My digivice is Light, of _course_ it would interfere. _”_ Not to mention Shadow had picked up on more than just the familiar signature of their D-Scanner. This was LordKnightmon’s base of operations. If they would be anywhere… “And if he could sense _that,_ you know what else could be up there. We have to _try_ nii-san!”

It was why they were there, in this version of the Digital World.

“…I just wanted to get you _out._ I didn’t come here to… _”_

The tail end of the whispered admission hovered unspoken between them. Storabimon carefully orientated himself toward his brother’s voice, and then took a measured number of steps toward it. He heard Duskmon’s armor scrape against the stone again—he was still sitting down? Good. That would put them on the same level—and the bone-gauntlet reached out to catch him. He made a guess and grabbed onto it instead, claws scraping along the bone-armor until they were able to curl and lock, trapping the dragon’s skull in a grip he knew the other could break if he wanted to.

“Maybe not…” Storabimon began slowly, “But _Duskmon_ didn’t drag me around the keep in order to save the world, did he? Why didn’t he just get me out of here when he found me?”

“Even ignoring the essences, we have a _friend_ up there.”

“…I _told_ him to wait.”

Storabimon wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. “He’s _Takuya._ ”

And that was really all the reason it needed. Not that Storabimon didn’t plan to give Flamemon a piece of his mind when they caught up to the reckless idiot.

A resigned sigh, but his grip was broken gently, and his hand relocated into Duskmon’s own—Duskmon even _having_ hands was still strange. “I…need to let Duskmon close again, for this. And there’s something else…”

“Just…be careful, little brother. I don’t even trust myself right now.”

  1. Kouji thought, even as he didn’t say anything. He could hear the pleading even though Duskmon’s chill matter of fact tone worked wonders to mask it. “After this is over, we should trade stories.”



Duskmon’s low chuckle had Storabimon swearing his fur had just decided gravity didn’t _actually_ exist. “Remind me to tell you about the Princess dress.”

Storabimon wasn’t allowed to ask what the hell he was talking about before everything he was tugged closer, pressed against the hard, cold armor of Duskmon’s side. The entire world seemed to _shift_ as everything, including the floor beneath him, dissolved into the void.

Everything except for the support of Duskmon’s armor, Shadow’s reassuring presence, and the way too familiar powers they were hurtling toward.

x-x-x

“Are we theeeeere yet!?”

“For the millionth time, I have no idea!” ExVeemon’s response was just as loud, if not louder. And even more irritated. “You said to follow the dragon—I’m following the dragon!”

“I didn’t expect him to go on an epic quest! I’m getting stiff here—”

“Hey, I’m the one _carrying_ you!”

The squabble was hard to hear over the buzz of Stingmon’s wings, but it still made Ken sigh and give up on trying to sleep. The tiny vibrations from the wings, not to mention the knowledge that they were hundreds of feet in the air wasn’t letting him relax. Even if he knew Stingmon would never drop him, and that he was safe in the cradle of his partner’s arms. Multifaceted red eyes looked down at him, his shifting catching the digimon’s attention. “Is everything okay, Ken? Be careful—we’re pretty high up.”

Ken nodded absently, leaning forward and looking out over the grey pre-dawn of the Dark Area. It was difficult to see in the gloom, but it looked like they’d left the vast expanse of the desert behind and were now flying over a series of rolling hills, which seemed to stretch ever upward and pierce the sky, the occasional jagged peak barely silhouetted in the distance. Quite picturesque. Or it would be if they were any color other than the same monochrome that seemed to blend into everything else. Most of the geography seemed similar to the normal world, just…gloomier. And…was that a town on the horizon over there? The series of dark grey shapes looked out of place among the lighter grasses. “Is he still going?”

Stingmon didn’t respond right away, but a quick glance had the large digimon nodding, “He’s faster than we are, but I’ve been able to keep him in sight because of his size.”

Ken nodded, searching the gloom and finding nothing. Stingmon’s eyes seemed to work better than his.

“How long have we been flying?”

“Mmm. About half an hour. Maybe.”

Really? Less than an hour since they’d escaped into open air before the tunnel collapsed behind them, black stone walls dissolving into sand as they passed. Only an hour since they were blinded by Dorumon’s crystal, the little dragon roaring with pain and grief and rage…and then a _huge_ blur of steel burst into the sky, bladed purple wings snapping out to catch the air and kicking up the surrounding sand.

They’d had no choice to follow.

Luckily, reactivating the sanctum had worked just as Ken had calculated. He’d hoped it would allow them to digivolve so they could cover more ground quickly, but he’d intended to ask Dorumon for directions back to Anubimon’s domain. With Dorumon raring off like that…

Kouichi didn’t have a D-Terminal—damn it he’d intended to ask Izzy about that—and without a D-Scanner Ken couldn’t tap into the communication network Takuya and Kouichi had used. They had no guarantee of running into another digimon willing to help them.

“We can’t lose him.” Ken muttered, tracking back through his memories—as the Kaiser, had he ever tried to map the Dark Area? He’d known it existed, obviously, but Ken hadn’t considered it a priority. The population was much smaller, and the number of mega-level digimon much higher so he hadn’t considered it an efficient use of his resources at the time. Better to consolidate his forces and take control of the main server, a periphery could wait other than the occasional experimental strike.

Ken leaned back against Stingmon’s forearm, pulling out his D-Terminal and navigating the menus until he found the grid that usually would show the sectors of the digital world. Every square was black, something that usually meant the presence of a Dark Spire, but seemed to be normal for this place. Even as the map indicated their position with a blinking dot, and there was a second dot right there—which would be Daisuke’s—he had no way of knowing which direction would lead him back to where Wisetmon had snatched him from. All they had was a half-mad cryptic dragon digimon.

And…Stingmon was slowing. Ken glanced up.

Something black was silhouetted against the grey sky as the black sun crept out from over the distant developing mountain range. They had been following the mountains, hadn’t they? If this was the beginning of the range…

“Don’t stop!” Ken said abruptly as Stingmon slowed to a hover, ignoring Daisuke and ExVeemon’s confused squabbling, “We need to get closer—if we can talk to him—”

“That might be…a bad idea Ken.” But Stingmon did as he was asked, with a buzzing sigh his wings began to hum again, moving them forward. Much slower than Ken would have liked, but it gave him the opportunity to see Dorumon’s evolved form better than a flurry of steel and wings. It was humanoid, with armor that _should_ have been shining in the breaking light. A long, dragon-like tail thrashed in agitation, some sort of axe-like blade protruding from the end. Ken admired the purple webbed wings, each spine looking as if it were a spear head. Why did he stop? He was nearly quivering with barely restrained emotion, and given it was _Dorumon_ …it was probably anger.

“It has been an eternity since one of the great generals took to the sky, Dorugoramon.” The amused voice immediately drew Ken’s attention past the steel-clad dragon, to a second figure hovering, flanked by the familiar shapes of two Devidramon. Golden feathers, somehow still brilliant despite the color sapping nature of this world. Humanoid, save for a canine-shaped head and large paw-like hands. The sudden blaze of color was almost painful to see—had he grown so used to the muted tones and desaturated nature of this world?

_“Golden wings. Blue fur. Looked a bit like one of the Egyptian gods—the one with the jackal head.”_

_…damn it._

“Let. Me. Pass.” Dorugoramon’s growl even sent a shiver through Ken’s body, and they were a good distance away. Ken didn’t have the heart to protest when Stingmon stopped in mid hover and refused to bring them closer. He had no idea what level Dorugoramon was, but Anubimon was a mega. One of the Lords. One who Ryuudamon had wanted to avoid at all costs.

“I would be remiss in my duties should I do so.” Anubimon remarked, completely unruffled by the threat in both Dorugoramon’s voice and his body language. “It is my responsibility to protect my domain from _invaders.”_

“I don’t _care_ about your pathetic domains.” Armored claws clicked; spread wide, orbs of fire bursting to life, sending stark red-orange highlights dancing along the silver armor, “We never have! I will say it again. Let me pass. Ouryumon—”

“Ouryumon abused the rite of invitation, and attacked my citadel. Minervamon,” Anubimon crossed his arms, addressing a small, humanoid digimon riding on one of the devidramon’s back. She straightened at the attention, “go on ahead and inform my steward that I shall be delayed. You.” He indicated the second Devidramon, “Inform the border patrol—where one gatekeeper appears, the others are never far behind. Send the elite guard to intercept them the moment GranDracmon or TigerVespamon are spotted. I will deal with them.”

Both devidramon shot away in opposite directions. Ken’s eyes followed the black blur with the tan blur clutching to its neck, braids flapping in the speed of their escape. The _citadel_. He noted the direction—it was nearly exactly the direction Dorugoramon’s mad flight had been taking them in.

 _He was going to the Citadel?_ _But…why?_

“I take your leader’s actions as representative of your intentions,” Anubimon responded simply, seeming unfazed by the fire building in Dorugoramon’s claws, “Any further approach will be taken as a hostile action. You are not welcome, Dorugoramon.”

_…and who is Ouryumon?_

“Damn your _welcome,”_ Dorugoramon hissed, “Ouryumon is _gone,_ and you _believe_ the word of an outsider? He would _never_ breach your precious trust, and you know it. He was always too damn _honest_ for that. He _cared_ for this twisted world, even after the rest of us were willing to let it rot.”

Anubimon said nothing.

“All. These. Years.” The dragon was quivering. “After all these years of looking out for this pathetic land—and you turn on us so easily? What will you do when _your_ ward breaks _,_ Anubimon? They do not last forever _._ What would you have done, had we not worked tirelessly to hunt down those who slip through the cracks? Killed them before they went insane, rather than the peaceful transition to a type that could survive? Digimon always _die_ here. Never are they born.”

A sinking feeling settled in his chest, hand instinctively going for the missing weight around his neck, fingers closing on nothing but air and cloth. Right. Daisuke had it. But the one who made the wards was…

“Your…services have been noticed, Doragoramon, Keeper of the South Gate. And they have always been appreciated.” The other responded, sounding more amused than angry, holding out his paw-like hands before him, forming a triangle with outstretched claws, “But…in time, the old must ever fade. I saw Sphinxmon’s world created. Perhaps…it is time to let it die, rather than to continue in a stagnant limbo.”

There was a grey energy flickering in his palms.

“Stingmon move!”

“Yours has already broken, _hasn’t it?_ ” Dorugoramon growled, wings flaring. “That is the only explanation. You’ve gone _insane!”_

_Pyramid Power!_

The words were soon incomprehensible shouts on the wind as Stingmon’s wings ate up the distance, the mountains and their growing forest drawing ever closer. Champions got faaaaar out of the way when Megas clashed.

And maybe they could _use_ this. Ken still remembered the direction the devidramon had gone.

He urged Stingmon on, trusting Ex-Veemon to follow. They were pulling away from the battle, picking up speed to put as much distance between them as possible, while still keeping the speck of the distant devidramon in sight—

An unseen wave of a blue furred arm had a shimmering grey barrier snapping into place before them, Ken clung to his digimon’s arm as Stingmon tried to curb his forward momentum. The action sent the mostly-unanchored human lurching forward toward the open air. And then everything twisted, and Ken found himself crushed against Stingmon’s carapace as the digimon braced for an impact.

The weightless feeling of falling ended with a crash. _Fly against a window_ , Ken found himself thinking hysterically. He couldn’t see anything, cradled in the protection of Stingmon’s arms. The digimon groaned, and then uncurled, revealing a sight that made Ken’s heart sink.

Stingmon lay dazed on a translucent floor of grey, three facets meeting at a single point, trapping them both inside. Ex-Veemon was pounding ineffectively on the outside, Daisuke clinging to the digimon’s neck to give him access to his arms.

They were both shouting, but Ken couldn’t hear anything through the barrier. He crawled out of Stingmon’s arms, testing the solidity of the floor before he was confident enough to stand on it.

  1. Stingmon was more important than the situation, Ken told himself, tearing his worries away from the trap and to the unmoving digimon taking up half the available floor space. It was large enough to Ken, but would be cramped for Stingmon. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand, even if he could.



_Please be okay. Please._

It was just a little knock. Stingmon _had_ to be okay. They hadn’t been going fast enough to emulate the fly-against-a-windshield scenarios playing through his mind. Physics didn’t _work_ like that.

_This is the **Digital World**. When have physics mattered?_

That dark thought snarked back at him. Ken forced himself not to think about it.

Stingmon’s normally bright red eyes were darkened. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the digimon unconscious. At least not without digivolving. It was actually a good sign that he hadn’t been knocked back to Wormmon.

“Come on, Stingmon.” Ken whispered, kneeling beside the insectoid digimon’s head. “Don’t do this to me…”

The digimon didn’t stir. But neither did the tell-tale glowing data begin to break away.

Ken took that to heart. He refused to let himself believe otherwise.

Ken didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Stingmon again.

He forced himself to look away from Stingmon’s dark compound eyes, and back toward where he had seen Ex-Veemon. The digimon had his arms crossed across his chest, a familiar red glow building behind them.

 _Vee-laser._ Ken thought numbly as the red energy crashed against the facet of the pyramid, sending a shiver through the floor as it painted the entire side with bright glowing red energy. Even if it broke through, Stingmon wouldn’t be able to—

And then it was gone. Leaving the shimmering barrier untouched.

 _Of course._ Even Shyamon took hours to break it.

Hours they really shouldn’t waste.

Decided, Ken rose to his feet and crossed the short distance between him and the barrier where Ex-Veemon was charging another shot. Daisuke interrupted the dragon’s attack by yelling in his ear and waving violent at him, causing Ex-Veemon to wince and then snap something back. Ken almost wished he could hear them bickering. Anything was better than this silence.

Ex-Veemon pumped his wings and floated closer. Ken made sure he had their attention, and then pointed harshly _away_ from the battle, in the direction the devidramon had escaped. They had to get out of here. Fast.

Daisuke shook his head stubbornly, and Ken didn’t even need to hear the litany of denials tumbling from Daisuke’s rapidly moving lips at this point. They probably all boiled down to, “ _Like I’m going to leave you here!”_ anyway.

As much as he valued Daisuke’s friendship and loyalty, it could be rather frustrating at times. It wasn’t like staying here would _do_ anything other than put them both in danger—

“Daisuke move!”

He yelled without thinking, but his sudden movement must have gotten the message across. Ex-Veemon spun around, facing the roaring flames racing toward them, flames Ken had only noticed as a bright glow against the sky behind them. Luckily he didn’t even try to fight it. Instead the dragon suddenly darted around the pyramid, taking cover on the other side.

The wave of flames broke against the grey barrier, making it sizzle and shudder dangerously. Ken stumbled back instinctively, back toward Stingmon’s bulk. A moment lasted for an eternity, the entire world lost in blinding color.

And then the wave was past them flowing around the pyramid’s bulk and beyond. The facet nearest the battle was darkened and cracked, but those cracks seemed to repair themselves before his very eyes.

And there, in the not too distant sky, a steel winged dragon chased the blue-furred angel, blazing fire surrounding the dragon’s clawed hands. Anubimon dodged the thrown waves gracefully, unconcerned as he led Dorugoramon on a merry chase. Some blasted into the grasslands below, sparking off a roaring brushfire. Others flew into the sky, blazing like comets until they exploded in a giant burst above the grey clouds, burning them away.

 _They don’t care_. _It’s all just collateral._

The brushfire flared in the distance, feeding on dry grey grass. He couldn’t hear anything in the pocket of the trap, but the flames roared in his ears.

Suddenly Ken felt very small. Was this how the rest of the digital world felt when the digidestined battled?

Perhaps he should be thankful to Anubimon. His trap may have just saved their lives.

An aura of energy finally surrounded the defensive Anubimon, taking advantage of a break in Dorugoramon’s enraged bombardment. It was almost white against the grey sky, curling and twisting away from him, forming a translucent monster that was somewhere between a crocodilian and some sort of maned, four pawed beast.

Dorugoramon’s flames met Anubimon’s spirit beast, and the world caught fire. Brilliant light touching this dark world for what felt like the first time in ages. It rained from the sky, breaking against the dark grey walls, heating them to an almost opaque white, molten cracks running along them like a set of spider webs. Ken had long since backed away from the outer walls, taking cover as best he could in the direct center, although that wouldn’t help if the upper facets broke. The only one he could see through was the bottom, where Ex-Veemon and Daisuke huddled uncertainly, using the floating prison as an impromptu umbrella, even if they had to occasionally dodge projectiles of red or pale white energy that came in at an angle.

“…I hate windows…” Stingmon’s groan was the only good thing about the entire situation. The insectoid digimon shifted, trying to sit up, only to bump his shoulders against the cracking facets where the prison narrowed to form the pyramid’s point. Then he hissed and recoiled, wisps of smoke drafting off the carapace that had brushed against the red-hot edges. Ken eyed the widening cracks. He _knew_ it was breakable. And it was cracking _this_ bad under the _cast off_ power of a mega digimon…

 _We need to get out of here. Now._ He thought, _Before the top gives in and this becomes a death trap._

“Stingmon—” Ken started, and then hesitated, considering his partner, a volatile mixture of relief and worry lodged in his throat. Relief, because Stingmon was up. Those compound eyes were no longer dark, but the normal deep red. Worried…worried because they were trapped, in a prison far too small for his poor partner, who huddled and hunched to keep his shoulders and head from brushing the increasingly unstable and white-hot walls. Ignoring the potential plan building in the back of his mind, he allowed himself to just be thankful that Stingmon was _moving,_ “How are you holding up?”

The insectoid digimon’s head shot up in surprise, though he stopped short of allowing his antennae to brush the upper facet, “I’ve…been better. I hope you have a plan, Ken. This doesn’t look good.”

“Working on it…” Ken returned to the background idea he’d been nursing, only just stopping himself from running a _second_ set of calculations. He didn’t _need_ another as he tried to estimate how much longer the upper facets would hold based on the speed of the widening cracks—

Or…maybe he _should_ try and figure out how much energy it would take to cause a matching instability in the undamaged facet, using the data he’d already been gathering. Especially if they targeted the section near where it met the already weakened one. It would be dangerous—while the constant barrage of fire seemed to have slowed based on what he _could_ see, the cracks continued to widen, and if weakening it shattered the entire thing—

“Keeen…” Stingmon’s voice may be different, deeper and more mature, but he was definitely still Wormmon when he sounded _that_ exasperated, “You’re worrying again.”

“Always…” Ken muttered, going through the probabilities again. It was probably the best shot. Then he stood up, well aware of Stingmon’s instinctive attempt to straighten his posture in attention—not that he had the space to, “Can you do a Spiking Strike in this space?”

Stingmon’s carapace armored face didn’t have an expression to read, but Ken could see the resulting frown in the twitches and droops of his antennae, “It’s…possible, but it won’t be as strong without a dive…”

Good enough. Ken nodded and crossed the space, pulling out his glasses as he did so. He hesitated a moment, remembering that moment in the dark when he’d considered just dropping them. Leaving them behind in the collapsing tunnels beneath the dark, cold desert…

But that would have been wasteful. Letting out a sigh, he slipped the rune-etched scanners on, watching carefully as runes and numbers began to flicker into existence on the tinted lenses. He searched the stream of constantly changing values, searching for the largest cluster of lowest numbers, occasionally glancing upward toward the largest cracks as reference. “Here.” He already had Stingmon’s attention, but he motioned to the specific section along the joint between the floor and the wall facet. “It’s warm, but not as hot as the top. But wait until my signal.”

Stingmon nodded, and slowly began to try and reposition himself. Ken watched for a moment, and then turned his attention to the second half of the equation.

Even with having found the weakest section…a single strike would not be enough.

And the second blow he’d need, was currently not paying any attention to him whatsoever, and arguing with his partner directly beneath his feet. He didn’t think tapping on it would work, since sound didn’t seem to pass through the cloudy barrier…

_An email might. The question is, would Daisuke be paying attention?_

x-x-x

This was _insane._

“Daisuke! This is getting dangerous!” Daisuke closed his ears to his partner’s growls, even as he clung to the dragon’s neck. Daisuke refused to agree, even as something else exploded above them. If Ex-Veemon _really_ wanted to leave he wouldn’t just be grumbling and pacing the somewhat clear space beneath the weird pyramid thing, he would be flying away regardless of what Daisuke said. The grumbling was all he was allowing himself to do, given he wouldn’t leave their friends any more than Daisuke would.

Motes of white energy seemed to spark off the sheltering edge of the prison. Huh. That was different. Usually it was Dorugoramon’s crazy fire flying across the sky. Weird blue angel dude seemed to be a lot more careful with his attacks. Not that it meant much. There were just as many odd black dead patches in the fields below as there were fire scorched swathes.

Daisuke craned his neck, trying to peer around the nearest edge. He couldn’t _see_ the battling digimon, but he could hear them. Every now and then the battle would shift away and he could see them, but blue angel guy always kept herding Dorugoramon back, keeping them out of the forests—his territory?—and over the devastated grasslands.

_And the prison._

Daisuke scowled at that thought. If the damn mega digimon would just move _away_ he could worry about getting Ken _out_ of the damnable prison.

Speaking of Ken, Daisuke glanced up to see how his friend was holding up, only to be startled by a decidedly annoyed expression through the clouded barrier. Stingmon had shifted—good news! But Ken was sitting on the floor of the prison directly above them, eying Daisuke with a kinda _scary_ displeased scowl. The fact that he was wearing the Kaiser’s scanner glasses things didn’t help.

Seeing Daisuke’s attention, Ken seemed to relax a little, and he placed something on the grey floor and gestured sharply to it. Daisuke squinted, it was grey and the barrier was grey, and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was because the barrier wasn’t _completely_ transparent.

Ken seemed to sigh and he picked it up again, fiddling with it. Daisuke felt like smacking himself in the forehead when he heard the resulting beep from his jacket. Duh. The D-Terminal.

 _‘Shut up. It’s not like I look at it from below.’_ Daisuke had to stop himself from typing back as he noticed Ken’s shoulders shaking. He stomped on the childish urge and read through the chain of notifications he’d apparently missed.

Huh. A two-pronged attack sounded easy. Especially with Stingmon conscious now. Ex-Veemon’s laser had seemed to do a good amount of damage alone, even if it wasn’t enough. “Oi, Ken has a plan,” He tapped Ex-Veemon on the shoulder, “Think you have another laser in ya?”

“Of course I do!” Ex-Veemon scoffed back, “I’m about up for anything at this point. I hate this.”

“You and me both…” Daisuke grumbled, glaring up past the prison where he knew the two mega digimon still were. He may be reckless, but even _he_ wasn’t stupid enough to charge in between those two lunatics. “Anyway, see where Ken is pointing? The corner there?”

Ex-Veemon tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he studied it, “Why not the middle?”

Daisuke shrugged, “Maybe Stingmon can’t reach the middle?”

Heck if he knew. Stingmon didn’t have many options, given how he had to lie nearly flat to reach it.

“If you say so.” Daisuke almost lost his balance when Ex-Veemon moved, clinging harder to his partner’s neck spikes, bracing himself against the force he knew was coming. He _really_ wanted to be back on the ground soon. He’d been trying _very hard_ not to think about how high up they were.

Being this close to Ex-Veemon’s laser was…both terrifying and invigorating. The air seemed to hum about them as the power built beneath his partner’s crossed claws, almost electrifying.

_“Vee-Laser!”_

His partner’s roar rang in Daisuke’s ears mere moments before the expected kickback happened, violent red light almost _blinding_ him as it bore down on the indicated corner. Daisuke forced himself to keep watching, although he shifted his watering vision from the steadily cracking area, and to what he could see of Ken and Stingmon. Stingmon hadn’t moved, the pinkish purple blade extended for the spiking strike, but Ken had his hand raised, waiting, the red light of the Vee-Laser reflected in the tinted glasses.

 _What was he waiting for…?_ “Keep holding it!” Daisuke barked when the beam began to thin, worried. Ex-Veemon never used it for a prolonged time, normally just a short burst of damage. His partner’s eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched with concentration, and a renewed burst of energy ran through the attack, pushing Ex-Veemon back just a little bit from the force.

_C’mon Ken…_

Ken’s arm dropped.

Stingmon’s blade struck the corner.

The floor _shattered_ in a storm of energy and data particles. Daisuke saw Stingmon reach for Ken immediately…and then Daisuke couldn’t see anything at all as the rest of the structure started to collapse, the power charged data exploding in a violent wind that sent Ex-Veemon tumbling through the grey sky. Daisuke’s world spun wildly as the racing wind tore at his clothes. Stung his eyes. Tested his grip. His shoes slipped off Ex-Veemon’s shoulder. Daisuke tried to pull himself closer, the wind tried to pull him away—

A large clawed hand plucked him from the air and pulled him sharply against Ex-Veemon’s scaled chest. Shielded from the disorienting visuals of the spinning sky, Ex-Veemon worked to regain stability in the turbulent air.

“ _Stingmon, keep going!”_ Ex-Veemon’s shout was muffled, but resulted in rumbled vibrations that shook Daisuke to the bone. He couldn’t see anything, only the faintest sliver of grey through a crack between Ex-Veemon’s curled claws. _“He’s gaining! Damnit, where’s Dorugoramon going—“_

And then everything shook, Ex-Veemon lurching forward into another tumble as if pushed from behind. Suddenly the grey sky became blackened grass, red flames blazing in Daisuke’s only little window of the world beyond Ex-Veemon’s claws—

Everything went dark. And the world ended in a shuddering crash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trucking along :) This chapter is actually only half of what was originally the next chapter. We get back to Flamemon, Storabimon, and Duskmon next time.
> 
> Oh, and this story won't be perpetually unfinished, I promise. (I saw it in one of the bookmark's notes :P)


	49. ?

_This is so surreal…_

Hiryumon perched on the dragon’s armored snout, looking into the blank eyes that were carved with such fine detail into dull black stone. He’d just _seen_ this digimon in full color and—well, maybe not splendor. The once tarnished and beaten armor, chipped blades and overall weariness was not reflected in the statue. It seemed almost…wrong. This had once been a living, breathing digimon. Hiryumon had heard him _speak._ A deep, resonating voice. Old and wise.

The memory flashed across his mind again, sending a shudder through his body, LordKnightmon’s gauntlet ripping through the damaged armor at the digimon’s core. A glittering golden sphere remaining once the rest had dissolved…

A sphere. _Like the others._

Had they all been digimon once too?

Hiryumon wrapped his tail around the statue’s snout for leverage, and then turned awkwardly—his beast rookie was _not_ made for ground maneuvers. Facing the distant energy that still itched at him.

The crouching dragon, one stone paw resting on an orange-red sphere. Ghostly static raced along his spine, remembering the energy thrumming under his scales as he’d taken shelter there. There hadn’t been a similar reaction as he’d gingerly touched the golden orb. Something about the red one _resonated_ with him.

And that statue…if it had once been a digimon—even if old and weathered in comparison to the new one’s fine detail and smooth stone… His eyes traveled along the circle, wings flaring to keep his balance as he slowly turned, skimming over each of the grey stones in turn. He could see better from up here, with the black statue in the direct center of the ring. Some were vaguely humanoid. Others beast. Even one looked like a giant rock with limbs. Each had one of those same orbs at their base.

Except one.

It was much, much smaller than the others, lumpy and misshapen. There wasn’t an orb, but something else. A tiny white splotch, smaller than the orbs. Hiryumon considered gliding over to check it out—

Movement below. He crouched low against the black stone, pulling his wings tight against his back. LordKnightmon was too large. There was no way he would have been able to sneak up on him, and anyone else would be too small to spot him up here—

A burst of dark energy erupted from the stone floor. A nightmare stepped out of it. Skulls and eyes and dark memories—Dark Trailmon. Defeat. Returning home alone. Running from fear and dark and hate.

But the vision of Takuya’s nightmares didn’t immediately ghost up to him, hold that twisted blood red sword to his neck and laugh at his cowardice. No. It turned away, back toward the collapsing fountain of energy and holding out a gauntlet to steady a much smaller digimon who stumbled out of it.

Grey and white. Wolfish. And traveling with Duskmon. A corrupted warrior of darkness, but the _Warrior of Darkness._ That, along with the pang of familiarity had Hiryumon leaping from his perch, Duskmon or no. Wings flared into a short hover, and then he tucked them tight, diving with a stupidly giddy feeling bubbling through his chest—

 _“_ Kouji!” _—it had to be. Had to had to had to—_ There was always something _familiar_ about the other warriors. Didn’t matter what evolution they were in—

“Mrph!” His forward dive was suddenly cut off. The tall dark shadow stepped forward, bone teeth closing about his armored tail and yanking him back abruptly. He lost track of up and down, the sudden force sending him tumbling, wings flaring and claws scrabbling for some sort of purchase to prevent this awkward—almost painful—dangling from Duskmon’s unmoving gauntlet.

The grey stone of the floor was too far, and he couldn’t manage to successfully twist and grab the offending gauntlet with his stubby tiny dragon claws. All he managed to do was sway in Duskmon’s grip, a mouse caught in the paw of a rather amused cat.

“You can let me go now.” He found himself grumbling, almost pouting while he tracked the more visible of Duskmon’s eyes—the ones set into the shoulder and chest pieces of his armor—as they considered him, and then dismissed him as a threat, moving on to examine their surroundings. The other digimon— _Kouji—_ kept a steadying hand on Duskmon’s side and looked vaguely in Hiryumon’s direction, the now obvious black sheen covering his iris made Hiryumon wince—that was _right,_ Kouji couldn’t see. He’d known—well, Flamemon had known and now Takuya sorta knew but didn’t, and having the evidence shoved in his face made him feel very small and very stupid.

And to make matters worse, the small wolfish digimon took a breath and stepped away from Duskmon’s side, toward Hiryumon’s undignified dangling, and then poked him right in his scaled chest. Hard. It didn’t help that Duskmon oh so helpfully moved him so that it was right on target.

“I’m afraid I can’t. Storabimon has a bone to pick with you.” Duskmon even had the audacity to chuckle at him.

And those claws were sharp.

“Ouch!”

Again. Hiryumon twisted, but he managed to catch the oncoming poke in a three-taloned grip.

“Quit it!”

“I will when you quit being an _idiot.”_ The digimon snarled back, breaking his admittedly weak hold (hey, his foreclaws were _tiny._ It wasn’t his fault they were weak) and poking him again. “You’re in the _middle_ of LordKnightmon’s fortress for Seraphimon’s sake! We could have been anyone!”

“Do you really think I _could_ forget Duskmon?” Hiryumon swiped back ineffectually, shooting a glance up at his captor again. Luckily the quiet digimon seemed just a bemused as before, with half his attention seemingly focused elsewhere, roaming the room, content to let them yell at each other.

That more than anything reassured Hiryumon that it _was_ Kouichi in control. He never did like to get in the middle of these things. “Besides, I knew Kouichi was looking for you, and the digivice led me _here._ I do know how to add two and two together.”

“You still shouldn’t be here in the first place. It isn’t safe.” The digimon-who-was- _definitely-_ Kouji crossed his arms and glared his friend’s patented glare. Or tried to. The fact that he looked upside down to Hiryumon was _not_ helping with the intimidation aspect.

“Like that would stop me.” Hiryumon replied stubbornly. If Duskmon wasn’t going to let him go, he would force him to. Takuya concentrated, and shifted, calling on Flamemon’s slightly taller, and slightly heavier form to shift the Warrior of Darkness’ grip. Only he hadn’t factored on his tail being flame, rather than scale and muscle.

There was a single endless moment where he almost seemed to hover in midair, arms flailing ineffectively as he slid completely out of Duskmon’s grip—

And then the next thing he knew he was a pile of woozy Flamemon crumpled on the stone floor, head pounding where it’d hit the stone with his fall. Kouji-as-a-digimon knelt at his side, gloved hand resting carefully on his shoulder—had he blacked out for a moment?

“Idiot.” The digimon drew back when he moved—what had Duskmon called him again, Storabimon? “Kouichi would have let you down soon enough. No need to try and give yourself a concussion.”

 _Wasn’t he Duskmon now? Why the name?_ The thought was scattered, but Flamemon could definitely see Duskmon a ways across the room. He stood before one of the eight outer statues, considering it, but moving on. The question was no longer ‘ _had_ he blacked out’. It was a question of how long. “Yeah well, you know I don’t think sometimes.”

“No.” Storabimon snorted in agreement, offering Flamemon a hand to help him stand. “You usually don’t.”

Flamemon grumbled, but accepted the help. And then was tugged forward abruptly, surprised as he was pulled into a half sitting / half kneeling hug, blue-grey fur filling his vision and tickling his cheek.

Kouji _never_ hugged anyone. Except _maybe_ his brother.

And then a sharp cuff smacked him upside the head, snapping him out of it. That was enough like his friend to shatter the feeling of oddness. Flamemon scowled and rubbed at his head, if he found a bump there—“Watch it. My head already hurts.”

A snort. “You deserve it.” And something told Flamemon he wasn’t _just_ talking about the whole falling-on-his-head thing. “I _told_ you to go home.”

Wha—oh. That. Faded memories inched forward, clashing with the fact that Takuya _knew_ he’d been at school then, not dodging giant spiders, getting buried in acid webbing, and _then_ proceeding to get the snot beaten out of him by a possessed angel.

Suddenly Flamemon’s battered appearance made sense. Ouch. No wonder he had needed help.

Pushing away the vertigo of competing memories—he’d intentionally tried not to look too closely at those—“I—he did. Sorta. It’s _fine_ now.” He gave in to the childish urge to shove Storabimon away. Just a playful nudge, but the other digimon teetered, a clawed hand snapping out in search of a support. More memories bubbled up, a blindfold, a thoughtless grab, ignorant comments and…

_“It doesn’t matter if I wear it or not. So kindly do not pull on me again.”_

“I--sorry, here—” Flamemon caught the searching arm, ignoring the odd sense of dejavu. But unlike the last time, Storabimon didn’t do much more than use the support to adjust his balance with little more than an irritated sigh. Maybe he was more accustomed to it now. Maybe his digimon form had a better sense of balance. Either way, it helped ease some of Flamemon’s guilt.

“Whatever. I shouldn’t have expected you to go anyway.” Sightless eyes shifted to some point vaguely over Flamemon’s shoulder, and he carefully climbed to his feet, “What were you doing here? This is at least a couple floors above the main level.”

“Your D-Scanner, oddly enough, led me here.” Speaking of, Flamemon searched his pockets for the device—it always seemed to shift whenever he digivolved. Upon extracting it, he pressed it into the other digimon’s gloved claws. They tightened immediately around the device, and Flamemon found himself having a hard time reading his friend’s currently wolfish-face. Kouji was stoic at the best of times and adding a sorta-kinda-but-still-unfamiliar face on top of that didn’t help much with the reading part… “There’s these statues, and some weird sorta power orbs, and I think LordKnightmon...”

His volume dropped, and he glanced up at the black statue they were now standing under.

“He was here. The statues—I think they used to be digimon. There was some sort of dragon, and LordKnightmon tore some sort of core out of him, and then it became the statue. I don’t know _what’s_ going on. Dorumon kept harping on about mirrors, and corruption, and I think we just need to get out of here before it gets any weirder.”

“…too late.” The frustrated sigh had Flamemon turning sharply, searching for any approaching danger. But that was frustration, not concern, and the only thing he noticed was that Duskmon had completed the survey of the room, and was standing a distance away from the black, center statue. As still and silent as a statue himself, gazing up into the chiseled face of the dragon Flamemon had seen die.

“…I know. I sense it too.”

…What?

Flamemon turned back, only to see Storabimon just shaking his head. Flamemon tried to follow his attention—he was looking at Duskmon, but Duskmon had been quiet so how would he know where he was? And sensing? Flamemon sniffed the air—he probably didn’t have as sharp a nose as a wolf-related digimon, but he didn’t smell anything abnormal.

“Nii-san!” He took a step forward. Two. Duskmon still didn’t move. He was still staring.

Wait…there _was_ something weird, now that Flamemon was looking for it. Some sort of…pressure. It made the air feel just the slightest bit heavier, made breathing take just a little more effort. It was…sorta like being stuck in crevice between the stone arm and that red orb again. Only instead of itching at him, it dragged everything down.

Something…flickered. The lights? No. There weren’t _lights._ Only those weird crystals, which seemed to be much _much_ dimmer than they were a second ago. What the hell?

“Flamemon said LordKnightmon was here not too long ago—we should try and grab the orbs if we can, but he will probably be back here once he realizes I’m not in my cell anymore.”

And then…the pressure _exploded._ A kettle on a stove, finally releasing steam in a sharp violent whistle. The sudden force of it sent Takuya tumbling. But there wasn’t much place to go other than crashing back into the stone base of the statue with a sharp, painful _crack._

  _What the hell Duskmon…?_ He’d only just gotten his head to _stop_ spinning. He crawled away from the statue, noticing the force had been just as violent in the other direction, Storabimon was a woozy crumpled heap on the floor, and Duskmon was just _gone._

“LordKnightmon has _much_ to answer for.”

 Duskmon’s chill voice came from _above_ him. Flamemon backed away and craned his neck upward, Duskmon a hazy red and black shadow against the glossy black stone. A golden orb cradled between bone gauntlets, all eight of his red-eyes focused on the single point. The statue shuddered as he jumped back down to the floor, the near-perfect detail fuzzing and fading, becoming amorphous and unclear. The now viscous lump of black not-stone shivered, small little tendrils of molten stone trailing after Duskmon, reaching, seeking, only to be severed by the a careless swipe of his twisted red sword.

 With a roaring screech, it shuddered, and collapsed, leaving Flamemon to scramble away from the cascade of weird black liquid that was raining down around him, leaving eerie black patches against the grey chiseled floor.

 “Nii-san!” Storabimon’s shout drew Flamemon’s attention back again, away from the ruins of what had once been a digimon, a statue, and was now nothing more than odd clumps of unidentifiable liquid. “What did you _do?”_

Duskmon didn’t respond. Dark grey and red code snaked around the warrior—slide evolution? Oh hell no, not Velgamon _please._ The cocoon was expanding outward, slowly, growing ever so steadily.

 “ _Nii-san! Stop!”_ Storabimon’s clawed glove broke through the digivolution cocoon without hesitation. It shuddered, and the growing ceased, still much smaller than Velgamon would have been. “ _Talk to us, Kouichi._ You don’t have to deal with it alone. _”_

It shuddered, still at that awkward mid-size, the grey and red—so eerie because it was normally blue and white—code swirling slowly, the patterns broken around Kouji’s arm. And then steadily began to shrink. Back to Duskmon’s height. And then smaller, only bursting once it reached Flamemon’s and Storabimon’s height. Half expecting to see either Anyamon or Kouichi’s as of yet unmet humanoid rookie, Flamemon was taken aback when the figure that stumbled out of the cloud of code was completely familiar and human. It almost seemed…oddly _alien._ Tears were streaming quietly down Kouichi’s pale face, his hair mussed and clothing torn as he nearly stumbled into Storabimon’s side. The digimon immediately shifted his balance to compensate, and curled his arm stiffly around his brother’s shoulder.

 “Talk to me.”

 Flamemon carefully crossed the space, one the one hand, he was reluctant to interrupt, but on the other, he _was_ worried about Kouichi too! He reached out awkwardly to brace Kouichi on the other side, taking some of the weight off Storabimon. The human was shaking silently, with the golden orb held tightly against his chest, as if he was afraid it would disappear.

 “Come on, buddy. It isn’t like you to explode like that.”

 “I—I—” Kouichi started with a shuddering breath, blinking away the gathering tears. He hugged the orb tighter, “I’m not sure how, but—I feel like one of my friends just died.”

Flamemon could _feel_ his heart sink.

 “Was…it a golden dragon?”

 He could feel Kouichi stiffen in his arms, and then he nodded. Slowly. Flamemon was keenly aware of his friend’s grey-blue eyes boring into him. Questioning.

 “That orb…” Flamemon started awkwardly, not sure how to begin. Not really wanting to tell Kouichi he’s seen Knightmon _rip_ it out of the dragon’s chest. “LordKnightmon took it from a dragon. They’d been fighting when I snuck in…I guess LordKnightmon finally won.”

 “…I told him not to do anything _stupid.”_ Was that…anger mixed in with the grief? “He _promised_ he wouldn’t. That we’d meet in town the next morning!”

  _“Niisan…_ ” Storabimon’s voice was quiet, “He’s a digimon. You may be able to find him again. They don’t die.”

 “Not here! This place is broken. Different.” Kouichi pushed away from them both, staring down at the shimmering golden orb. Then he shook his head and closed his eyes. The code that swirled around him was still grey, but lacked the angry red of the previous evolution attempt. The orb dissolved in his hands, glittering gold particles getting caught up with the swirling code, dancing through the barcode like tiny fireflies.

 And then it burst, revealing a digimon that looked reminded him of a smaller, lighter armored Lowemon even if the color scheme was off. It _had_ to be his humanoid rookie. Golden mane, black furred ears, black and red armor. But it was red eyes that stared back at them, rather than Lowemon’s amber or Anyamon’s gold.

 “I _saw_ what LordKnightmon did to you, Kouji. What he did to Angewomon. And now what he’s done to Ryuudamon.”

 “I’ve been fighting myself the entire journey. I had to stop listening to my instinct, because I couldn’t trust it. But…I think I finally agree with it. LordKnightmon. Anubimon. They all _have_ to pay.”

 “Such a _rousing_ speech from such a little mouse.” The familiar voice had Flamemon’s blood running cold. He spun towards it, towards the main entrance to the room, beyond the statue with the red orb. Out of the corner of his eye, Flamemon saw bright flashes of color as each of the remaining orbs flared to life, floating from their respective pedestals. Kiermon grabbed both Storabimon and Flamemon and dragged them back, streaks of color flying over their heads like tiny flying comets. The seven multicolored lights ended in a slow orbit, casting a shifting rainbow across the worn and still battle-scared pink armor of LordKnightmon, “Had I known Ouryumon had such… _interesting_ friends, I might have been more patient about finishing him off. I also see that you have found my…wayward guest. I should have known that there would be more of you vermin lurking about.”

 LordKnightmon stepped forward, and Flamemon caught an instinctive flinch from Storabimon. LordKnightmon seemed to have seen it too, because he threw back his helmeted head and laughed, “Oh, little warrior, did you miss me that much? Do not worry, there will be plenty of time to finish what we started.”

 “You will _not_ go near him again.” Keirmon snarled, but a clawed hand most to rest on his shoulder. A poignant look was shared between both Storabimon and Kiermon, one that Flamemon could only hope to try and decipher. But Kiermon backed down from where he’d all but shoved Storabimon behind him, letting the wolfish digimon step up behind him.

 “You aren’t just picking on one of us, this time, LordKnightmon!” Flamemon crowed with a grin, feeling hope welling up for the first time sense entering this grey hell hole of a world. He bounced excitedly in place. They _weren’t_ separated anymore. They weren’t racing to try and find each other. No one needed rescuing.

They just needed to do what the warriors did best. Work together and kick some evil monster’s tail.

 “You are still only three of six.” LordKnightmon drawled dismissively, “And missing the remaining four required for you to even _approach_ my level. I do hope it doesn’t offend that I am _not_ worried.”

…He _was_ correct…they needed the other spirits to form Susanoowoomon, but…

 _“Double Spirit Evolution…”_ Kouji wasn’t letting _that_ stop him. And even Kouichi was shrouded in a cocoon of grey and red code. Duskmon may be only a single spirit evolution, but he _was_ one of the strongest. And the three of them together…

Flamemon reached for the odd blending of spirits he remembered from his double spirit evolution, the power Patamon had been able to give them inside Sephirotmon…

And it slipped from his fingers. Elusive as fine mist.

Determined, Flamemon delved for the power. He _knew_ what it felt like to combine beast and human. It was there. Buried. Just out of reach. He just needed something. A nudge. Something to push back the block brought about by disuse and recongfigurment. It was frustrating. He _knew_ he could do it.

Something burned on the edge of his perception, familiar. Itching at him. He automatically reached for it, yanking on it irritably. If it was going to itch at him, it might as well _help._

_“What!?”_

LordKnightmon’s undignified squawk of surprise broke Flamemon’s concentration. He looked up just in time to see a hurtling red/orange light barreling down on him. He instinctively dodged the projectile, but it adjusted its path to match his, smashing into his chest in a burst of sparkling red data particles.

A fire _burned_ inside of him, and the spirits leapt eagerly into action.

_“…Beowulfmon…”_

_“…Aldamon…”_

The final cocoon took the longest to dissolve, and neither Aldamon nor Beowolfmon would recognize the digimon that stepped out of it, even if they would recognize pieces of it. Bird-skull shoulder guards, a faint red glow shining from the crystals occupying each of the three eye sockets. A black metal helmet, metal molded to resemble a lion’s skull with a red-edged mane, a blood red pentagonal stone set into a gold setting in the center. Red eyes above a masked face, intricate interlocking armor, edged in red with gold accents. Shining gold metal edged the wings, grey tattered feathers looking as if they would fall out at the slightest breeze.

“… _SkullSphinxmon…”_

Aldamon shuddered. Seeing the mash up of all of Kouichi’s spirits was almost painful. He shot the warrior of darkness a questioning look.

_Are you going to be okay?_

SkullSphinxmon caught his gaze, closed his eyes slowly. And nodded.

That would have to do.

“ _Give it back!”_ LordKnightmon’s screech was shrill as he lunged for them—no, for _Aldamon_. The six remaining orbs of light whirling madly surrounding him. “ _The essence is **mine**_!”

“Then come and _get_ it, you fruitcake!” Aldamon taunted, and then glanced at the warriors of light and darkness on either side. SkullSphinxmon was watching carefully, wings tense and ready to move. Beowolfmon was staring off in the distance, but even he was waiting, head tilted, waiting.

Aldamon couldn’t help a fanged grin. They were waiting for him. And he was waiting for— _there._ LordKnightmon seemed to blur—

“Okay guys, _scatter.”_

LordKnightmon’s _Fist of Fear_ technique broke the stone floor where they’d been standing in a created a giant spiderweb of cracks. Aldamon was thankful for the high ceilings in the hall—he didn’t much like the idea of fighting indoors. SkullSphinxmon wheeled on the otherside of LordKnightmon, tattered feathers holding him aloft, a familiar blood red sword in hand. Where was Beowolf—

There. He’d dashed away when Aldamon had shouted, but Beowolfmon was ground bound. LordKnightmon was sprinting toward him, his four-non broken shoulder ribbons ready for a spiral masquerade.

Sucking in a quick breath, he gathered the energy, aimed, and activated the Rudri Tarpana on his arms.

_Brahmastra!_

Thousands of tiny fireballs rocketed toward the charging LordKnightmon, over Beowolfmon’s head. To Aldamon’s surprise, Beowolfmon reacted immediately to the attack, his head snapping up and tracking the fireballs, even allowing him to dodge at the last _second_ as LordKnightmon plowed uncaring through the small barrage.

He still couldn’t see…right?

Spiral Masquerade slammed uncaringly into the ground, one of the ribbons driving deep into the stone, the others leaving shallow gouges and LordKnightmon quickly pivoted, bringing his pile bunker up to block an extremely precise swing of Beowolfmon’s twin bladed saber. Blade screeched against the large, heavy shield. They were at a stalemate, but LordKnightmon still had two free shoulder ribbons, and he didn’t need _all_ of them for Spiral Masquerade. Aldamon saw him readying the attack and dove, Beowolfmon didn’t seem to see that attack—

_“Stop!”_

He didn’t even have time to _think_ about processing who shouted it, or why. He flared his wings to break his downward momentum and shoot upwards, out of the path of a crackling red projectile. The ball of dark energy dug into LordKnightmon’s back, upsetting his balance enough for Beowolfmon to flip the lone mega digimon over his shoulder and into the air. Aldamon spotted the opportunity immediately, and gathered the more powerful of his attacks, instead of a swarm of rapid small shots, he concentrated them all together.

_Brahmashira!_

The giant fireball rocketed toward the flying digimon. It burst against a multicolored barrier, the six lights of the essences spinning rapidly around him, cocooning and cushioning him as he crashed into one of the statues—one with a giant rock on it, from the looks of it. SkullSphinxmon snatched up Beowolfmon without saying a word, tossing the not-at-all-ruffled warrior of light at the multicolored cocoon. In mid flight Beowolfmon’s golden sword began to gleam, white energy crackling about it with the fury of a chained dog.

_Zweihander!_

The lightning quick slash broke against the multicolored barrier, the resulting explosion sending Beowolfmon flying back again, although this time, Aldamon was the one to catch him out of the air, even as he had to fire his blasters backwards to keep them both from falling with the momentum. SkullSphinxmon moved in then, raining meteor upon glowing red meteor down upon the crumpled cocoon.

“You seem to be handling yourself well.” Aldamon muttered, noting that the film covering Beowolfmon’s eyes was still there, even if he could _maybe_ see a hint of their normal red through it, “Fighting blind, and you call _me_ reckless.”

“I’m not helpless.” Beowolfmon growled in return, although he didn’t immediately charge back in once Aldamon set him down on the stone floor. “I can see him against light sources. So your fire has been _very_ helpful.”

“I can’t seem to break it.” They both turned to SkullSphinxmon, who came up to hover beside them, bright red energy fading around his gauntlets.

“Of _course_ you can’t.” LordKnightmon’s voice was wheezing, out of breath as he stumbled out of the destroyed patch of floor—the stone of the statue untouched despite the barrage of attacks and the impact. The multicolored shield faded as the motes of light began to slow their orbit, but it didn’t vanish completely, a translucent sheen remaining. “This power has been holding the digital world together, and you believe you can _break it?”_

The laugh made Aldamon want to punch him to get him to shut up, but he had to make due with firing a couple potshots at him. They splattered against the shield, causing it to flash briefly.

“You still look battered under there, LordKnightmon!” Aldamon shot back, “You had a hard fought battle before this didn’t you? The dragon didn’t go down without a fight.”

“Indeed.” LordKnightmon allowed, tilting his head in acknowledgement, “But, you see, I merely need to last until one of you _fall._ I’m afraid I haven’t been the best host to the Warrior of Light, and as for Darkness…well…power _that_ twisted will tear him apart _far_ sooner than I would. How does it feel? Two spirits twisted into four, stretching and twisting, fighting each other—”

He was cut off by a burst of dark wind, SkullSphinxmon’s helix blade crashing against the suddenly flaring bubble. Beowolfmon’s Trinity following shortly after. LordKnightmon took a step backwards, even as the crossed blades didn’t seem to cause a ripple in his bubble.

Beowolfmon took one hand off his sword, charging the lasers in his gauntlet. SkullSphinxmon’s free hand was already gathering another red meteor.

Even from across the room, Aldamon could hear the two attacks as they collided— _Cleansing Light, and Meteor Crash—_ and he jumped into the air, tossing his own Brahmashira in for good measure. The large fireball came down at an angle, over the other two warrior’s heads as they leaped back in unison.

The resulting explosion rocked the keep, blasting LordKnightmon’s little bubble of protection _through_ the statue that hadn’t even been dented before. It crumbled before them; a brown bundle of digicode was the only thing to remain, spiraling around the crumbled pile of stone slowly. Lost without its physical shell. On instinct Aldamon materialized his D-Scanner, diving for the code even before the dust settled.

A symbol flickered on the screen before he dismissed it. More red than brown, despite the coloring of the code. It looked like a stylized heart.

 _“You!_ ” A whoosh and Aldamon’s vision was filled with pink and gold armor. He only had five of the lights swirling about him now, _“_ Need to stop touching _my_ property!”

LordKnightmon’s Fist of Fury was too fast for even Aldamon to react. Blow upon blow rained down on him, smashing him into the ground, cracking stone and floor and armor with every blow. Aldamon couldn’t even _see_ through the pain, nothing but blurs of pink and gold, even as he thrashed and tried throw the mad knight off—summoning small bursts of his Bharmastra whenever he could summon the power to—

A roar of energy, and the weight was gone, leaving Aldamon dazed on the floor. He almost couldn’t move—had LordKnightmon been that powerful before?

…yes. The question was yes. Memories returned unbidden, of the warriors battered and defeated, too soon after they’d thought their quest completed, and Cherubimon defeated.

A strong, gauntleted hand reached down and pulled him to his feet. Beowolfmon’s grim face not nearly masking the concern in his voice, “Can you stand?”

“Maybe.” Aldamon mumbled, trying to remember that his wings and tail were a thing, and _yes_ they were supposed to _help_ with his balance rather than feel like lumps of numb lead. “Where did he—”

Oh. Follow the explosions. Spiral Masquerade landed on nothing but a flurry of loose feathers, and then SkullSphinxmon shot in with a flurry of strikes with his helix blade. One golden blade got loose, and shot straight for SkullSphinxmon’s exposed side, only to glance off air as a black and gold shield materialized on his free arm, the roaring lion motif clamping down on the gold blade, splintering it between dark metal fangs.

Two blades down. Two to go.

LordKnightmon spun away, his remaining blades whipping around him, reams of red energy forming around him and blasting SkullShpinxmon back against a wall. _Through_ the wall.

“C’mon.” Aldamon staggered, but then shook himself, straightening and _forcing_ himself to ignore how the world spun around him, “We can’t let him focus on one of us. He’s right. _None_ of us are in top shape.”

To his surprise, Beowolfmon didn’t argue. He just nodded, and the two dashed through the broken wall.

x-x-x

_Kill him._

Everything focused onto a single point. SkullSphinxmon slowly picked himself out of the rubble, bits of stone debris tumbling down black armor, occasionally getting caught against ridges before they tumbled to the ground. His enemy approached, and SkullSphinxmon was both annoyed and satisfied to note that the annoying multi-colored shield was still up in full swing. He shifted, allowing his helix to slide out of his gauntlet, wings pressed against his back. Waiting.

 When LordKnightmon attacked, that was when he was vulnerable. The shield would ripple and drop. He just had to be ready…

“Hmm…this place must be both a blessing and a curse for you, my twisted one.” LordKnightmon purred, “I can feel you feeding off the data—Sphinxmon created it, you know. Of course you do—that’s why Ouryumon followed you, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you _dare_ say his name.” SkullSphinxmon growled, fighting the urge to just abandon all thought and charge. The amount of poisonous hatred welling up inside him—Kouichi’s hate for what LordKnightmon had done to his brother. Sphinxmon’s hate for what he planned for this world. _Both_ of their grief for Ouryumon’s death.

“ _Ou-_ ryu-mon.” The barrier rippled, and then LordKnightmon vanished before SkullSphinxmon could react. The whistle of metal through air, and SkullSphinxmon threw himself to the side, helix blade locking with one of LordKnighmon’s remaining ribbons, his shield buckling as the crusader’s Pile Bunker glanced off the golden surface. “Imagine my surprise when his human companion turned out to be the _Warrior of Darkness_ instead of the Emperor like we thought _._ I would have expected you _days ago_. Leaving your precious twin in my care…then again, you were always the weaker one, were you not?”

_Shut up._

Something cracked.

“Mmm, yes. Always Light. Always Fire. Never Darkness. Or Wind. Or Thunder.”

Debris crunched under armored boots.

_Shut up!_

A wordless snarl and he attempted to throw the pink abomnination off balance, only to have the quick knight pirouette away, a rapid flurry of golden streaks hammer down against his shield, keeping him from pursuing. Even with over half of his blades broken, LordKnightmon had a longer reach and quicker striking ability with his ribbon blades.

“And now it was your time to shine. You appear, just in time to rescue your poor helpless brother…” LordKnightmon stepped back, SkullSphinxmon’s infuriated meteors impacting against the shimmering shield with nothing more than a ripple, “Only to be _too late._ You even had to sacrifice a friend to buy you time. How _honorable.”  
_

SkullSphinxmon dismissed his blade and grabbed the oncoming ribbon, crunching it beneath a gauntlet’s fist. LordKnightmon yanked it back, and the warrior of Darkness allowed the momentum pull him forward, smashing straight into the shimmering barrier. He still had hold of the ribbon blade, the multicolored light flowing around the captured weapon.

He drew his free arm back, blood-red helix blade shimmering into existence.

“You think that’ll do _anything?!”_

And he stabbed _through_ the blade. Right on the edge where the shimmering bubble met the gold metal.

It shattered under the blow, data scattering everywhere. The bubble rippled, and then surged to fill in the tiny slot, only to have it already occupied by red steel. LordKnightmon grunted as he was shoved back into the opposite wall of the enclosed hallway. While the barrier prevented SkullSphinxmon from actually pulling closer, his weight pushed his blade deeper, sliding through the pink and gold armor, digging deep into LordKnighmon’s shoulder.

“You…talk too much.” SkullSphinxmon growled, twisting the blade deeper, cursing that the tiny opening didn’t give him enough room to actually _aim_. Data bled from his gauntlet—he’d nicked it with his own strike, but that was inconsequential when he had his enemy pinned beneath him. LordKnightmon’s gauntleted hands clutched the blade, but didn’t have the leverage to pull it out, especially since the bulk of SkullSphinxmon’s weight was directly above it, only the bubble shield keeping him from being a pancake.

“Hmph.” LordKnightmon scoffed, “And you…don’t _think_ enough.”

_…what?_

The shield suddenly faded, and with it SkullSphinxmon’s support vanished. He crashed to the ground as LordKnighmon rolled, his final remaining shoulder blade crashing into red steel, shattering them both on impact in a shroud of data. Red and gold mixed in a sudden storm, blinding SkullSphinxmon just in time for a shouted attack.

_Laser Lattice!_

Glowing golden energy pinned him to the ground. LordKnightmon stood over him, shoulders heaving, pink armor torn and dented, bits of data bleeding into the air surrounding him. His once ornate and regal stance was haggard; each and every one of his golden ribbons shattered remnants of their previously ornate selve.

“I will take _your_ power gladly, _Darkness.”_ Even through his wheezing, LordKnightmon drew his pile bunker back, “I’ll take back the core you stole, and yours as well.”

The world seemed to darken, an unusual chill settling over his body. Something flickered between them, swirling grey and red code. _No._ But the spirits didn’t appear as they normally would, instead a faint glowing golden orb coalesced in the front.

_Ouryumon…_

He couldn’t do anything as the orb shattered and streamed away, LordKnightmon tossing his head back as he absorbed the data. The golden data streamed along the knight’s armor, closing the broken bits of armor, and repairing the least damaged of his shoulder ribbons.

 “I see you too have the spirits integrated into your data.” LordKnightmon’s voice was stronger, more confident. A golden light joined the lazy orbit of colored lights around him. Six. “Unluckily for you, I do not have the time to waste separating it.”

 “ _Goodbye.”_

_Zweihander!_

_Brahmashira!_

The attacks collided in a blinding flash, the resulting column of energy punching a hole through the ceiling and the floor, and half the wall. What passed for light in this world came streaming in through the collapsed outer wall—had it really been that long? He’d entered the tower at _sunset._ He could feel the tremors rocking the tower. Could hear the screams from the floors below—hadn’t they evacuated _yet?_

Golden blades sliced effortlessly through the edges of the lattice, red-scaled claws reached down to haul him to his feet.

“What did we say about trying to do this alone?”

“C’mon. He fell outside. We’ll do better out of these enclosed spaces!”

_x-x-x_

_“Citizens!”_

 LordKnightmon projected his voice into the grey dawn. There were few residents of the citadel town out this early in the morning, but those that were setting up their market stalls stopped to look up. More and more voices could be heard as he leapt away from the gaping hole in the side of the citadel—where the hell were the guards? First Ouryumon had put him through a wall, and now this? “Your citadel is under attack! Who here will defend their lord’s hall!?”

Murmurs began to rise from the streets, digimon of various sizes and levels trickled out of their homes and buildings. Mostly rookies, with the occasional champion and, judging by their sizes. LordKnightmon tsked, floating further away from the edge as he saw the three warriors watching him from the shadows, the twisted abomination holding his arm out to stop the more reckless from jumping after him. Hmph. Wise enough to be cautious, but if they were going to allow him to summon aid without responding, he would take it. The guard had a number of mega digimon, and even if they couldn’t stand up to the warriors evenly, they would at least distract them long enough for him to get back to the inner chamber. He needed light, and that blasted warrior stole Courage— _isn’t it fire?_ At least he’d been able to scan back Love before he’d been knocked away.

 No. Not enough. Even if he got the digimentals he still needed _more._

And…while the crowds in the street were growing, none of the guard stepped forward.

  _“None of you!?”_ LordKnightmon shrieke—er, demanded. Yes. Demanded. He would never do something as unseemly as shriek. First they had willfully ignored the battle with Ouryumon— _disrespected him. Did they believe he wasn’t worthy of their time?—_ and now this? “Where are the guards?! The Ultimates and the Mega-levels!?”

“Oh, there you are!” A cheerful voice cut through the air, had LordKnightmon had teeth he would have been grinding them as a familiar childlike digimon hopped into view, settling lightly on the edge of the nearest tower. Her twin braids danced in the wind and she waved—how informal!—at him, “I sent them to the border! They said you’d defeated the intruder, and Anubimon is dealing with Dorugoramon. And the border guard wouldn’t be able to deal with the other two alone. I’ve been trying to find you but I wasn’t allowed _anywhere—”_

 _“Minervamon…”_ His voice almost sounded tinny. Calm. Stay calm. She’d _taken_ his _guards_. And for what? He recognized Dorugoramon from his research, and _he’d_ already taken down their leader and most powerful—and claimed his prize—Ouryumon. The others were nothing. “Fine. I don’t care. YOU take care of them then.”

 _“_ Oh?” She tilted her head, peering through the broken wall at the three warriors. “Nope. I don’t think so! It’ll be more fun to watch.” She responded just as cheerfully, crossing her arms behind her head, “Lady Lillithmon only asked me to escort Anubimon home, and he sent me with a message. I think my job’s done.”

 “ _Oooh…”_ LordKnightmon could barely even think through the bubbling rage, “ _Is **that**_ _how it is? **You** don’t see me as a lord, either, do you? **None** of you do!”_

“Nah.” She laughed. “You’re just a stray Anubimon took in. Everyone knows it.”

  _You’re just a stray._

_A stray._

_Everyone knows it._

 Everything went white and sound turned to noise.

 The girl’s laughter cut off into a choke. LordKnightmon’s gauntlet buried in her chest.

  _“You **will** help me. Whether you want to or not!”_

The infuriating _child_ grasped at his armor, clawing at gauntlets and arms like a dying animal. But he didn’t drop her. Squeezing tighter and tighter, all his rage and frustration boiling over. He heard a shout from the warriors—of course. How _self-righteous._ Jumping in to protect—the warrior of flame rebounded off of his shield with a shower of sparks, the energy pulsing with his rage. There was a satisfying crunch of a body hitting stone, smashing into the already ruined side of the citadel.

  _“You will **all** learn not to disrespect me.”_ With a final twist, the he overwhelmed her. Data fracturing in a burst of beautiful sparks. He glared down at the tan orb in his palm. Not an Essence. Not even Ouryumon’s power.

 Screams erupted from below, as the rookies that remained ran for the dubious safety of the buildings.

 “ _Watch me, Citizens of the Dark Area.”_ LordKnightmon bellowed to the empty streets, his five essences and two cores beginning to fracture around him, multicolored data streaming like millions of tiny colored fireflies. Power surged through him as his data remembered what it had once been, but had never had the power to reach. This land _remembered_ its lord, and that remnant data welcomed his call with gleeful anticipation. If they wouldn’t accept him…he would _force_ them. “ _Watch as your true lord returns!”_

 x-x-x

 

Flying over the desolated plains, Lillithmon watched the destruction with narrowed eyes. It was as if Belphemon’s Wastes had spread to the southern edge of her lands. Fields that supplied her citadel were utterly ruined, and she could see smoke from one of the farming villages she’d established to _work_ those fields. It had taken _too long_ to train those Auramon in how to properly manage a farm…

 She closed her eyes and sucked in the air. Fire. Fire and a taste of _other_ that was hard to come by these days. Except for one digimon.

 A digimon she’d been meeting with hours before, who’d excused himself from their meeting at behest of a messenger.

  _Return soon, Minervamon._ Lillithmon thought as she spotted something among the ruined husks of her fields, motioning for her honor guard to check on the matter as she continued to survey the damage. These fields were the _only_ place in the Dark Area with enough open space and a hospitable climate to support cultivated wheat. Which was her territory’s main luxury export. The economic ramifications of such destruction was going to be crippling. _I need to know who to eviscerate for this mess._

“Human…children, my lady.” LadyDevimon returned promptly, leaving Kinkakumon and the Devidramon she was riding to keep watch. “They have two heavily wounded rookie digimon with them.”

 Children…

  _“_ Bring them all.” She waved LadyDevimon off with a dismissive gesture.

 But silently…she turned her eyes to the east, where the forested mountain range marking Anubimon’s territory began. Clicking the fingers of her Nazar Nail together, she flew off toward the ruined village. Some of this destruction was definitely Anubimon’s handiwork.

 She had questions, and the children had better hope she liked their answers.

x-x-x

 


	50. Power Games

“…I see…” Lillithmon wasn’t pleased by the news that greeted her once she returned to her capital. The messenger Shellmon scuttled away quickly under the weight of her annoyance. Visitors. Especially _that_ one. As if she didn’t have enough trouble to think about. She motioned for Kinkakumon—who had the two human children flung over her shoulders—and then addressed the ogre once she’d come within range, “Put them in separate cells. Send a runner for me when they wake.”

“Of course Lilli.” The ogre’s toothy grin would normally ruffle Lillithmon’s feathers—she appreciated formality and deference, and Kinkakumon didn’t understand the meaning of either. But the ogre was one of her more loyal subjects, so Lillithmon was more willing to ignore minor infractions. The digimon’s heavy footsteps disappeared down a grey marble passage, LadyDevimon trailing after her with the two rookie digimon in hand. Lillithmon watched them go for a moment, feeling as they moved beyond the range of her hypnosis. Given their condition…

She estimated roughly two candlemarks until they would be able to be woken. That would probably be enough for whatever business the gatekeeper had with her.

A flick of her hand and the devidramon plodded off out of the courtyard, heading for the stable annex on the edge of the sprawling compound. Everything in its place. Just how she liked it.

And right now, her place was the audience chamber.

The doors swung open before her, settling against the smooth obsidian stone with a satisfying thud. The large, vaulted room was mostly empty; she’d dismissed her courtiers before she’d left to oversee the destruction to the east. Only a single digimon waited for her. Tiny. Small. And weak. Normally, a rookie would not be granted a private audience without extenuating circumstances.

But…when that rookie was a gatekeeper…things changed.

Fanbeemon was a small golden spot against the polished black stone, and the rookie ducked his head in deference as Lillithmon swept passed. Good. Proper.

She settled herself in the ornate silver chair on the dias, adjusting her robes so they fell properly. Only then did she give any attention to the supplicant, resting an elbow on the delicate arm of the chair, chin resting in the palm of her hand. “I was told your… _compatriot_ was here as well.”

“Drrracmon went on to speak to Daemon, mmmmy lady.” Fanbeemon’s wings buzzed occasionally, antennae twitching with each word. Fanbeemon was just as expressive as Lillithmon remembered. It made these meetings very easy to read. Fanbeemon was her preferred liaison when it came to Sphinxmon’s old guard. Ryuudamon was respectful enough, but the other two…

“I…see…” She could only hope Daemon killed the little pest. While it was annoying to be fed the wrong information, she was glad not to have to deal with the imp. “Well then, what do you want?” It was perhaps a bit snappier than she intended, but Lillithmon continued anyway, “I do not have much time to spare for this. I am in the process of investigating a disturbance in the eastern province.”

“Thhhhat is what I wwwwished to speak with you about.” The insect buzzed nervously as Lillithmon suddenly sat up in her throne. Interested. Well, well. Perhaps some of her answers had beaten the clock.

“Do…tell…” She nearly purred, the long nail on her claw tapping slowly against the silver metal, “What do the Gatekeepers have to do with the…destruction of my fields?”

And what would that have to do with Anubimon? There were only two vaccine-type digimon remaining in the Dark Area that could have caused that type of residual data, and Ouryumon would have left more…gouge marks in the grounds. Not burns.

Fanbeemon’s constantly buzzing wings stilled for a long, silent moment, and then the insect’s front claw reached up and tapped at a small metal band that ran along its shoulder, a small red gemstone tumbling free from the setting to settle on the floor.

Lillithmon watched curiously—she’d never seen this behavior before. She’s just assumed the presence of a ward was Fanbeemon’s way of remembering Sphinxmon. As a virus type, it wouldn’t be needed the way a vaccine or data would. A faint light gathered in the insect’s wings, and the buzzing began again. Growing brighter and brighter as the vibrations increased.

“The Ggggates are cccconnected. Wwwwe felt one ccccclose. Ouryumon is no more.”

 _Impossible._ That thought chilled Lillithmon to the core. Even if she hadn’t seen Ouryumon in person since the sealing, she knew Ryuudamon still handled the wards for the western domains. And what of Devimon? While technically a champion level, that one had gotten so drunk off Lucemon’s power he’d nearly been able to tear open the world. They didn’t need the fall out should he manage to invade the world beyond the darkness.

“Ddddorugoramon sought to rrrretrieve his data as issssss the custom. He was denied entry.” The light streamed from the buzzing wings, coalescing in the now shining red heart of the stone, projecting an image in the air between them. Lillithmon recognized the sillouette of the mountains in the background as the ones she’d been looking at not long ago. She couldn’t see the smoking remnants of her fields, but blocking the rampaging dragon-warrior she vaguely recognized as one of the old gatekeepers, was most assuredly Anubimon, his fabled spirit beast a looming threat behind him. Battling with a _gatekeeper?_ “The bbbbbattle sssstill continues toward the citadel. Iiiiii do not know of the situation ttttheere. Ggggaurds were dispatched to the borders ttttto stop our approach.”

Where one keeper appears, the others will follow. Yes, if he were to deny Dorugoramon, then he would need to plan for reinforcements. Lillithmon leaned back in her chair, her face carefully blank. In general she was indifferent toward the Gatekeepers. They served their function, and left the dealings of the domains alone, but…Ouryumon— _gone?_ And given Anubimon’s actions, he was obviously taking responsibility for the situation. Had it been an unfortunate accident, he would have been duty bound to _help_ retrieve the data. The data of such an old, and powerful digimon would be dangerous if found by someone outside their power structure. Much like how Sphinxmon’s Fall was still forbidden to all except specifically authorized agents. None of the domain lords wanted any of the others to claim Sphinxmon’s data, so they generally agreed to leave it in Ryuudamon’s keeping as the neutral third party.

The Lords had long ago decided it was best to keep out of the way of the Gatekeepers. Alone they were the most powerful megas after the Demon Lords, together… well, it had been a relief when Sphinxmon’s old guard had returned the courtesy by remaining painfully neutral when it came to the Dark Area’s power structure, vanishing into the unclaimed lands. Lillithmon only ever saw Fanbeemon during the annual tribute runs, although there were usually sightings reported whenever a fresh face would be found wandering by the capital gates, afflicted by the _sickness_ with only a tiny stone to temporarily ward off the madness…

It was…almost unthinkable that Anubimon had knowingly broken the agreement they’d had in place since the sealing all those centuries ago.

But then…hadn’t Anubimon been acting strange since his outsider advisor had appeared? Guard patrols near Belphemon’s Rest were expected, but on all borders? …and the rumors of the massive hunt going on in the world beyond... There had been…ripples throughout the world of late. She’d needed to know if what he was planning would have spillover into her lands. In part, that had been why she had summoned him. Only for _this_ to happen… Her fields. Mobilizing the Gatekeepers…

“What of the humans?” Her sudden question had FanBeemon jumping, the light dying in the suddenly still wings. Green eyes looked up at her, one claw scratching nervously against the marble floor. “Hhhhumans, milady?”

“The _children_ we found in the destroyed fields.” Lillithmon tapped the arm of her chair impatiently, although it gave her a measure of smug satisfaction to know she had information Sphinxmon’s former intelligence officer did not. An empty victory, knowing it had been eons since TigerVespamon had maintained a proper network, but a victory nonetheless, “Two male humans. Two rookies. One of which was wearing a warding stone.”

A relief, that last bit of information. Imagining the madness taking one of the _Chosen’s_ digimon was nightmare inducing. The Chosen had been the ones to take out Apocalymon after all. Even the most powerful from the Dark Area had only been able to seal him between worlds. But the presence of the warding stone meant they’d been involved with one of the four gatekeepers

“Iiiii…was unaware of the human’s iiiiinvolvement in _this_ situation…”

…that statement was too carefully worded. Lillithmon narrowed her eyes, “Perhaps that is the truth…but you…are _not_ surprised…are you?”

“…nnnno.” The insect digimon’s antennae drooped sheepishly, the buzzing of the wings stilling as they folded back against the faded yellow carapace, “Before we lost contact, Ryuudamon sent word to keep an eye out for humans. My own research indicates…they would be in search of something that was stolen.”

“The digimentals?” And by Lucemon’s wings, Barbamon wouldn’t shut _up_ about Anubimon acquiring them. They were only usable by the chosen, and so wouldn’t upset the balance of power near as much as it ruffled Barbamon’s feathers. She refused to break truce just to appease his greed.

“Nnnnno.” Nervous vibrations, and then the unaccustomed stillness again. “He brought back more than that. There are reports that the Parasimon’s host is one of the chosen’s partners. And rumors…state there may be even more.”

…drawing the Chosen indeed. What in the name of all things _unholy_ was Anubimon thinking? They’d dodged a bullet with the chosen of light only destroying one of Leviamon’s lighthouses, and he just _had_ to _kidnap_ one of their partners? She was surprised she’d only found two of them in the fields, and not the whole lot of them. Legends claimed they usually traveled in groups.

 “And what do you hope to gain by bringing me this information?” It was becoming a struggle to maintain her aloof posture and indifference, the more she learned. Damn Anubimon. She knew _exactly_ what Fanbeemon wanted, and she didn’t _want_ to give it to him. She might not have a choice if Anubimon had stirred up the Chosen. Powergrabs were par for the course, but bringing the Chosen to their world…

They may have abandoned the world beyond the darkness, but they still heard the tales. Devimon. Vamdemon. Apocalymon. Even that rumored Emporer of Darkness with his spires. This world of darkness was _theirs,_ they didn’t need any legendary brats trying to _fix_ it like they had so many other cases of digimon fairly conquering territory.

"Yyyyou should call a ccccouncil.” The steady buzzing returned. “Iiiif nothing eeeelse, they must be informed of Oooouryumon’s ddddddeletion. Wwwwards must be rationed unnntil someone else ccccan begin and rrrrefine production. Iiiiin the best case…”

Sudden silence. Utterly still. Fanbeemon was so tiny, but in that moment the insect seemed just as large as Lillithmon. Perhaps larger. Where FanBeemon’s constant buzzing was annoying, TigerVespemon was silent, leaving no warning before twin fangs pierced their mark.

“Revenge.”

x-x-x

That…had hurt. But he hadn’t thought before jumping.

Even while he tried to shake it off, peeling himself out of the Aldamon-shaped-hole in the wall, he could still see the little girl with the snake’s mask, her hands clawing ineffectually against the armor of the mad knight. He could see her outline fracturing, dissolving into data. Just like the dragon. He hadn’t acted then.

He hadn’t been able to stand by again.

And it had meant nothing, crashing into that _blasted_ barrier. He’d been immediately blasted back into the tower, an overwhelming shockwave of energy and power radiating outward. He swore, the moment he got home he was going to walk around with a helmet under his hat. For at least a week. He was getting tired of getting knocked into things.

He staggered as a particularly large chunk of the wall collapsed on him, showering his armor with chinks and plinks. Something reached through and grabbed him sharply, white and blue armor—what?

“No time.” Beowolfmon grunted, and then pulled, sending them both tumbling free, off the edge of the tower. Aldamon jolted, his wings flaring and catching the air clumsily. Beowolfmon kept falling, his golden sword appearing in a shimmer of light, digging into the wall and slowing his descent.

An explosion rattled the air above them, sending Aldamon tumbling through the air before he could right himself properly and demand what the hell Beowolfmon was thinking.

The Aldamon-shaped-hole was gone. But so was a good chunk of the wall. Aldamon couldn’t help but wonder when enough would be enough and the damn tower would just collapse. The one side was a patchwork of holes, smoke and energy sparks streaming from the gaping wounds in the stone. And that wasn’t even counting the holes they’d created on the inside. Digital magic. It had to be.

“How did you like that, little thief?” Aldamon spun towards LordKnightmon. Eight wings of multicolored light spread out from behind the floating crusader, and his armor was slightly different, black running through the pink, edged in golden wings. The wings folded, and he brought forward the shield in a move than had Aldamon immediately pumping his wings to dart out of the way—only to have LordKnightmon predict his movement, the edge of the pile bunker digging deep into Aldamon’s gut when the crusader predicted his path. It blasted him back toward the building, but Aldamon kept enough of his wits about him to flip himself in the air, kicking away from the stone wall and off into the clear air space over the town. Showers of stone fell with him, clanging against his armor as he dove. Damn. Shattered another wall.

Where the hell did Beowolfmon vanish to?

x-x-x

If having to live in the darkness was bad enough, fighting in it was worse. Beowolfmon grunted as his boots crunched against stone, finally having found the ground after his mad slide down the tower. The screech of metal against stone still rang in his ears, even after he yanked the sword free, echoes rattling around the void.

Only it wasn’t quite a void. Whatever LordKnightmon had done with that light show left him glowing like a small star. Beowolfmon tilted his head upward, searching for the single point of light in the darkness. The knight’s mad laughter knifing through the echoing ringing in his ears.

Still. That little bit of light didn’t help much in the reflecting department. He needed…well, _shadows_ to be cast in order to see edges. Right now the only things he had mapped mentally were the wall, and the ground.

A shift in the light above him, and Beowolfmon bolted, fingertips skimming the wall as he rushed for some sort of shelter. Light. Light. He needed light and he had no idea where Aldamon went—even just a quick burst would give him a decent view of the surroundings.

“Playing cat and mouse now, are we?” LordKnightmon’s _hated_ voice came from above him—still far above—flying? “Very well—Laser Lattice!”

Beowolfmon could sense the approaching energy, and threw himself to the side, hearing the crunch of stone as the attack impacted the stone near where he’d previously been. Of course in order to go anywhere he’d had to leave the wall, leaving him lost in a void of space—

Wait. Rushing air. He poured his energy into his blade. _Zweihander_. But held it just before it would flare out. LordKnightmon’s star was _that direction,_ and given the speed—

He sensed the disturbance and whirled, allowing the attack to blaze forward like a pack of hunting wolves unleashed upon cornered prey. The clang of metal against metal—Spiral Masquerade? Or the Pile Bunker? Given it was only one attack and not several, probably the Pile Bunker. Never before had he appreciated a digimon’s tendency to announce their attack names quite as much—as his light-wreathed sword caught _something_ , blazing into a roaring flare and breaking over LordKnightmon’s oddly shaped shield—

Wait. LordKnightmon’s star was too far away, the weirdly shaped edges of the pile-bunker too far from his sword, held off by something else. The blaze of the Zweihander painted a black and white image in his senses of his surroundings, the wall he’d been following was over _there_ and to his left was the edge of what looked like houses…some sort of courtyard. But no attacker… Yet that same _something_ had stopped both his blade and the pile bunker.

“Say something next time.” He let out an aggrevated growl, breaking his sword free of the gauntleted grip holding it, “I can’t see you.”

SkullSphinxmon just chuckled.

Of course the warrior of darkness managed to evade even Shadow’s senses.

“Quaint.” The details faded as Zweihander did, but Beowolfmon held onto the memory of the basic image. Shelter was near the houses. If LordKnightmon attacked again, he would lunge that way, bringing up his ranged attack—he had to trust SkullSphinxmon would be quick enough to dodge it—“Still watching out for your _helpless_ brother. But can that shield block _this!?”_

LordKnightmon’s star rose into the sky again, and the surge in ambient energy flared, sending Beowolfmon skittering away as alarm bells began to flare. It was the same energy that he’d had to drag Aldaman away from. One that felt like a muddled, unstable mix of _everything_. That was never good. Generally explosive.

“Don’t even try to block it!” He shouted at his invisible (to him anyway) brother, making his best approximation of a line for where he remembered the shelter was. He was ground bound, much more limited in his available movement than SkullSphinxmon and Aldamon. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be an easy target for any sort of a ranged attack.

Best to get lost amongst the buildings. Walls would give him something to follow, and time to think. Zweihander had given him an idea, but he couldn’t hold that flare indefinitely—

The build-up of energy broke like a thunderous storm on the beach, roaring in his ears as it approached. The heat even on the leading edge was intense, crackling and sparking along his armor, not good. He couldn’t stand it for long—it was quickly moving from beyond uncomfortable to painful. Armor cracking and popping under the barreling energy. No. No. He couldn’t lose the evolution now. Not here. His human self wouldn’t be able to stand it—He had to get out of the wide street—there! His trailing hand met empty air, and he lunged through the opening in the wall. Into a house, a side street, he had no idea. He couldn’t catch himself, tumbling head over heels, the smell of burnt hair and melted metal trailing behind him.

Beowolfmon hit the stone floor and shattered, leaving a battered human to roll to a stop.

x-x-x

“Oi! _I said put me down,_ you dumb walking mountain! This is utterly _humiliating!”_

And painful. Like Daisuke could forget the painful. He’d woken up to the sort of aches that usually meant he’d have an ugly looking bruise there in a few hours. Probably from the crash. It _didn’t_ help that this behemoth of a woman didn’t seem to know her own grip! He’d been _perfectly_ fine walking, thank you very much. It wasn’t his fault that this place was gigantic, and it took him like five minutes of running to match one of his escort’s steps.

“Yer’re too slow, squishy.” The booming laugh resounded above him, rattling through his head and setting his nerves on edge. Daisuke glared up at the crooked grin behind the golden mask, “Trust me, ya don’t wanna keep Lilli waiting. This woulda been much faster if ya hadn’t been bellyachin’ the entire time.”

“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t just _swooped_ in and plucked me off the ground like a loose toy—“ Daisuke’s retort was cut off by a sharp, impatient bark from down the hall.

“Kinkakumon! Hurry up!”

That had Daisuke wishing he could turn around, but her—Kinkakumon? She hadn’t introduced herself when she’d collected him from the cell—grip tightened instinctively as she looked up at the speaker. Her hold had been painful before this, now he had trouble _breathing._ He pushed against her fingers in vain, trying to twist just enough so it wasn’t crushing his chest. That only sparked a hushed, “See? Devi’s already mad at me takin’ so long. Quit squirmin’”

Like he could quit squirming when the little bit of extra room he managed to to get eased the pain juuuuust enough…

Kinkakumon’s heavy footsteps stopped echoing against the stone, as did the forward momentum. Good. Maybe he could actually get a second to bre—

And then he was falling, tumbling, hitting the stone in a crumpled heap that left his already aching body flaring with pain. Yep. Bruises. If there wasn’t anything before, there would be now. Kinkakumon was talking again as Daisuke tried to untangle himself from limbs that were just now regaining the pins and needles of sensation, crushed as they’d been in Kinkakumon’s hand.

“Yer’re going to take ‘em in, Devi?”

 _Devi?_ He looked up, recoiling immediately at the form that towered above them. He’d never _met_ a LadyDevimon, but damn did they look intimidating. The digimon waved a clawed hand dismissively, which Kinkakumon obviously took as an answer.

“Alright! Bye, squishy! Have fun with Lilli!”

The heavy thudding against stone was the sound of Kinkakumon retreating. Back the way they’d came? Hell if he knew. He tried to push himself to his feet, but he faltered, his still sleeping leg buckling—and then something caught him. No. Not something. _Someone._

Ken was wordlessly helping him to his feet, even under LadyDevimon’s disapproving stare. _Ken._ Damn. He thought he’d been alone in this. Waking up in a dark cell without Veemon. Without Ken. He thought _he’d_ been the only one captured.

While in some ways in was relieving to know that he wasn’t alone. In others…there went any hope of a rescue.

“We’ve wasted enough time. The Lady is waiting.”

But…where were their digimon?

x-x-x

"You okay?” Ken murmured to Daisuke when LadyDevimon was distracted by opening the heavy obsidian door, the grinding of stone against stone covering their words. She didn’t approve of them speaking. “Was Veemon with you?”

“No. I was hoping you’d seen him.” Daisuke’s breath came out in a pained hiss, “I’m okay…would have been better if she let me walk. Dang troll doesn’t know her own strength. Or care, I’d bet.”

So…either Wormmon and Veemon had escaped somehow—a hopeful, but unlikely possibility since they would have never left their partners willingly—or they were also being held separately. Given they’d had the foresight to split up the two humans, it was quite likely. Kinkakumon hadn’t even come from the same passageway as Ken and LadyDevimon had, meaning two different cellblocks at least.

“Silence, humans.” Ken’s head snapped up at LadyDevimon’s commands, seeing she’d finished opening the door into a large audience hall, “You are to be brought before Lillithmon, the Lady of our domain. Do not speak unless addressed, and be courteous. You were found trespassing in my lady’s lands, and given the disasterous state they had been left in…you had best hope my lady is merciful.”

Clawed hands swooped down and curled around them both at once, uncomfortably shoving Ken against Daisuke as she lifted them both in a single hand. Daisuke muffled a yelp—LadyDevimon’s grip wasn’t _tight_ , but given there were two of them…it was _very_ uncomfortable, and Daisuke was hurting already.

LadyDevimon’s moth-eaten wings snapped open, the ultimate kicking off the ground and flying the rest of the way into the enormous—even when considering how this entire place was _mega_ sized—hall, crossing in minutes what might have taken them closer to ten or fifteen had they been left to wander on their own. This was all so surreal. Everything was so _large._ LadyDevimon and Kinkakumon had been about Angewomon’s size, standard for a humanoid ultimate digimon (and many times larger than the chosen), but the hall looked like it had been built to accommodate digimon far larger.

 _Of course. The leader of the domain would have to deal with all types._ Ken conceded, forcing him to ignore the way LadyDevimon’s claws were constricting his chest. _Beast-type digimon tend to be larger, mega levels especially so._

If the digimon Kaiser had seen something like this…a full on audience chamber, in a sprawling compound, with a clear hierarchy of authority…could he still have deluded himself into thinking the digital world nothing but a mindless program for him to toy with?

Or would he have just taken it as yet another challenge to overcome?

The dark splotch against the white marble was clearer now. An ornate chair on a raised dias, lit by the faint yellow glow thrown off by—were those _candlemon_ snoozing in the braziers on either side?

The chair itself was occupied, by what Ken assumed was Lillithmon. Regal purple robes, perfectly styled hair, golden jewelry, and a poise that could have belonged on a queen straight out of a television drama. It was the ragged black wings draped over the arm-rest that reminded him that she _was_ still a digimon. Ragged black wings and the malformed right hand tapping impatiently against the silver metal.

And then his view was suddenly cut off, the world turning upside down as LadyDevimon’s knelt wordlessly before the dias, waiting for her lady’s acknowledgement.

“Leave us.”

The command resulted with Ken and Daisuke being dropped in a tangle on limbs onto the cold stone floor. Ken managed to right himself in time to see LadyDevimon rise from a deep, wordless bow before taking off again, vanishing through the distant black door in minutes.

“Now, children…” Lillithmon’s voice was just as lovely as she looked, but commanding, Ken couldn’t help it as his attention immediately snapped back to the digimon. She rose slowly from her throne, that odd right claw getting lost in the voluminous purple silk sleeves draping from her arms and pooling around her feet.”You have five minutes to tell me why I should not have FanBeemon dump you back through a portal and wash my hands of you?”

Ken blinked. Dump them through a portal… So she didn’t plan to—

“Wait a sec…” Trust Daisuke to immediately blurt , “Isn’t this where you are supposed to tell us ‘You are now my prisoners, Muwaha, and now you’ll be destroyed if you don’t do what I want?’ And where the heck are our partners!?”

"I had assumed you intelligent enough to understand the situation without needless boasting. As for your partners…they are safe enough, but I am not so uninformed that I would leave a potential adversary with their weapons.” She buffed the nails of her normal looking left hand against her silk sleeve, examining them as if they were of more importance than the children before her. “I’m afraid your…kind has somewhat of a reputation. My only concern is my Domain, and what your presence means for the stability of my lands. The Chosen only ever appear during times of chaos.” Her eyes narrowed and focused on them again, “How much the chaos they cause, and how much is prevented is the question…”

  _…you’d best hope my lady is merciful._

 LadyDevimon’s ominous words, as well as the destruction Ken had watched through the transparent barrier…Ken touched Daisuke’s shoulder, causing the other boy to jerk, and cutting off whatever retort he was gearing up to throw back. So far, it seemed like she just wanted them out of her territory rather than seeking their destruction, which was a breath of fresh air after Arukenimon. No need to antagonize her.

 “We were not involved in that battle, Lady Lillithmon.” He studied her body language as he spoke. Given the titles LadyDevimon had used even when referring about Lillithmon, Ken had hypothesized that she was used to a certain amount of deference. He could use that. She _was_ a figure of authority here, best to acknowledge that. But not groveling or cowed. Ryuudamon had mentioned that the chosen were a legend of sorts, which gave them a bit of power. One thing he’d learned since Osamu…died…was that sometimes an illusion of power was enough. “An altercation broke out between two other digimon, and our partners were caught in the crossfire. We had no intention of trespassing on your lands.”

 He resisted the urge to rub at his neck, which was beginning to ache again, as that would be a sign of weakness. He must have jarred it when LadyDevimon dropped them. He waited a few moments, for questions that hadn’t come. Lillithmon was merely watching him, nothing in her posture giving away what she was waiting for.

_Why should I not dump you through a portal and wash my hands of you?_

Of course. It hit him like a flash, and he wanted to bury his face in his hands at the obvious answer. It hadn’t been five minutes yet. He still hadn’t answered her question.

“As for why…”

He trailed off, took a deep breath and stood up straighter, backing his words with a confidence he didn’t feel. “You could throw us out if you wanted, Lady Lillithmon.” A nod in her direction, acknowledging her power, but there was no waver in his voice. “But we would just return. Again. And Again.”

Her face didn’t change, but Ken noticed her straighten. Good.

“And we wouldn’t be the last.” He went on, “The Chosen don’t leave their friends behind. And Anubimon kidnapped one of ours.”

The words hug heavy in the room.

 “You…” Lillithmon spoke at last, tapping a long claw against her chin, “You…have a presense to you. You do not lie.”

No. He did _not._ He might be feigning strength, but not his conviction. The Digimon Kaiser had been tenacious, clinging to his hold on the digital world for as long as he could…

…and Ken was just as determined to direct that stubbornness toward his friends now. Maybe Kouichi thought he could do it on his own. Maybe Takuya had dismissed their offer to help. But that didn’t mean they would _try._ And they couldn’t try trapped in Lillithmon’s dungeons, or sent back to the digital world.

“Hmm. Very well. I have heard what I wanted to hear. You will be called to present your case before the council tomorrow.” Lillithmon stood, smoothing out her silks, “Anubimon has one crime levied against him already, what is another? LadyDevimon.”

She barely raised her voice, but the door at the far end of the hall slid open, the devil woman taking a step inside and kneeling. Waiting.

“Take them.” And then she was across the floor, scooping Ken and Daisuke up once again. Daisuke, who’d been surprisingly quiet—he seemed to be settling in to allowing Ken to do the talking in…delicate situation—let out a yelp as black claws curled around them.

Lillithmon turned away, and then paused. “To the guest quarters. And return their partners. Tomorrow will be an…interesting day.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Cross-posting from FF.net because why not. Adventure time-line is after the Holy Stones, but before the Christmas Party and the World Tour. Frontier is AU for Lucemon's last battle, but should be decently canon otherwise. It is currently 3 years after the end of Frontier.
> 
> There are no focused pairings, but I try to keep the characters in character. That means Daisuke is crushing on Hikari, and she and Takeru are occasionally adorable. I think some Taichi/Sora sneaks in briefly, but as I said, romance isn't the point of this story. It is an adventure, with plenty of drama along the way. Hope you guys enjoy! I will try to be fairly regular with updating.
> 
> This is my first fic on AO3, so treat me kindly :)


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